


A New World to Conquer   Harry Potter/ Game of Thrones

by abdomaher



Category: Game of Thrones (TV), Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-14
Updated: 2016-07-14
Packaged: 2018-07-23 23:36:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 13
Words: 57,706
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7484409
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/abdomaher/pseuds/abdomaher
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Being reborn after my embarrassing fall at Godric's Hollow as the Potter brat was an interesting experience. Getting sorted into Hufflepuff, even more so. But reborn as the Lord of Winterfell in Westeros as my playground? Now that was new, even to a retired Dark Lord. A Wizard vs Westeros.<br/>Harry Potter/ Game of Thrones crossover.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Reminiscing

I sat pondering the last few centuries of my existence with my faithful companion Fawkes. I was always a survivor. From the day I was rather rudely thrown into the Dursley's home I recognized that I had absolutely no one in the world but myself.

So, observing my surroundings I quickly determined three facts. The first was that the Dursley's hated him and he hated them.

The second was that my relatives absolutely abhorred being "abnormal" and like any child genius I rubbed the fact that I was as abnormal as they come and threatened them quite frequently, as soon as I was able, that if they don't comply with my extravagant demands, a room and a healthy portion of food, I would show the whole bloody neighborhood that the Dursleys were freaks, further stressing my point with turning Tuney's neck pink with yellow polka dots and freezing Duddikens.

Alas, I still look back fondly at the memory of the Dursleys huddling behind the couch while I, Harry Potter, sat devouring their food.

….It all started when I was 4 and memories upon memories of Tom Riddle's first twenty years burst like a dam giving me a headache for days but upon my recovery, I had discovered that I was indeed a Wizard and through the memories and impressive mind of a young Dark Lord I practiced wandless magic and could successfully control my magic and bend it to my will.

And thus began my childhood, with three muggles accommodating to my every desire.

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In retrospect, I should have simply imperio'd Petunia and the school Principal instead of having to go through school once again.

Tom always viewed education as his reprieve from the orphanage. As such, by the time he got his Hogwarts letter, he was already at high school level.

I blame my impatience.

I had thought if I successfully finish a few year early of schedule I would be free to pursue my Magical studies and the muggles would ignore me.

They didn't.

As I quickly breezed through the first 5 years of education, the muggles took notice of me. I was declared a child genius and gained a rather impressive amount of attention from the authorities. The Dursley's were praised for raising a child as smart as my own and for a small moment they seemingly ignored the fact that I was a wizard and happily ate praises for being upstanding members of the society.

Upon reaching the tender age of nine I was already a celebrity in the Muggle world and it was decided that I will join a University.

I knew that I could keep up with my university studies but to maintain my prodigy status? If I went there and I couldn't maintain my impressive image, I was doomed.

I couldn't let that happen. I have been building myself a steady reputation of a genius and while I certainly was one I wasn't of the caliber to finish my education in five years.

Thankfully, my savior came in the form of a Dark Lord. By now I have thoroughly uncovered the Dark Lord past 70 years, turns out the Dark Lord was a fucking cheater. Sure he was smart and a great Wizard but he actually gained most of his knowledge by literally copying the minds of Masters of wizardry branches. It was a simple process that required a not so subtle legilemency so It would have to be done in private. The only drawback was that with magicals, the process could only be done once as the influx of magical energy that accompanies the knowledge could cause your magic to implode, the Dark Lord simply used a ritual that involved… unpleasent sacrifices. Up to this point I seriously considered continuing on his work of terrorizing muggles ,but I found that I simply lacked the motivation and I couldn't decide whether to thank him for his knowledge or curse him for killing my parents.

I decided to wait until my Fifth year counseling to decide my career choices.

So after wrangling the knowledge from dozens of University Professors, I remained unparalleled in my knowledge and the utmost genius in Great Britain.

All for the Glory of Lord Vold… Harry Potter!

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Meeting with the Royal Family was an interesting experience. I squashed my more sociopathic instincts to imperio the Royal Family and claim the world under a banner of Pottery.

Apparently the Royal Family was aware of the existence of the magical community, I could sense with my superior senses that there were a couple of wizards in the service of protecting the Queen. That and they also asked me for an autograph from the boy-who-lived.

The Queen attempted to enlist my help into closing the gaps between the Magical and the Muggle community, due to my impressive achievements in both worlds and being a name that every child, man and woman knew in Europe by now

By now I have learned from the Muggles enough to know that they are dangerous, Way more dangerous than wizards. Due to my/tom's memories I realized that I couldn't actually rule by force and leading the Death Eaters wasn't fun, Tom originally started it as a fuck you to the pureblood wizards that tormented him back in school. It quickly evolved due to Dumbledore denying me the position of professor of the Dark Arts, or rather the Defense against it.

During mine.. tom's? interview I tried to impress my worth as a professor by proving my immense knowledge of Dark Arts and even creating a horcrux which I was going to show him to further impress and assure him that I knew what I was going to teach… against. Know thy enemy and all that nonsense.

He disagreed.

Offended and refused I cursed the DADA position so that no one could hold it for more than a year and stormed out of the castle. A little childish I agree but what do you expect from a child raised at an orphanage? All in all, I was a pretty sore loser.

The situation quickly escalated from that point. I legitimized my movement, enjoyed lording over the same assholes that tormented me in the past, crucio'ed anyone who dared disagree with me, commissioned stylish uniforms, Creating a tattoo that practically announced to the world of our members probably wasn't the best idea in our first years but I was drunk on power and grief.

So, I considered my options. I was still an orphan, people looked up to me. If I couldn't take my place over the world as a Dark Lord, perhaps I could topple Dumbledore as a Light Lord and replace him, destroying the legacy he strived to build and build it myself as the Greatest Wizard in the World.

As I said Tom was a sore loser, and so was I.

The fact that I would enter the Political arena in the Wizarding World endorsed by the Monarch as well and that I wouldn't lose everything I built in the Muggle world was the deal breaker. I struggled too hard to build myself a reputation as one of the brightest minds in the worlds and even as a kid my influence was vast and wide.

I accepted.

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I stroked the parchment of my Hogwarts letter with fondness, I still haven't figured out what I would do in the next 7 years. Would I spend them at Hogwarts while I could do better things to usurp Dumbledore and cement my power base in the ministry? Still too many factors to consider.

My knowledge of magic was unparalleled, even Dumbledore the old fool only managed to duel me because of the blasted Elder Wand. I was not going to spend my next couple of years learning how to transfigure matchsticks into needles and floating feathers. I had to build my political base.

Visiting Diagon Alley brought back memories. I still remember the first time I visited the alley. I stubbornly refused Dumbledore accompanying me to Diagon Alley the first time, even as a child I was an excellent judge of character. I hated him from the first meeting.

I mean seriously, who burns an orphan's wardrobe who struggled his whole life and was an outcast who relied on his power. Was he trying to prove a point? That more than everything made me strive to prove myself more powerful than him.

The rush of ecstasy and superiority was still the same as first time.

I effortlessly blended in the busy alley and it took all my willpower not to jump like a child. While I could use magic to an extent to remind the Dursley's who was the boss, I was significantly weaker without a wand, so being able to acquire a wand once more was something I really looked for.

While I would've loved to have my old yew wand, I couldn't actually get it without alerting Dumbledore that someone has crossed Godric's Hollow premises. Nevermind that the place contained sad memories for both sides of my person. As Lord Voldemort, there was my downfall.. and as Harry Potter there was the place I lost my family.

I entered the shop with a sense of trepidation wondering what my new wand would be. Perhaps another yew wand but this time with a basilisk fang, or perhaps a tree made of the legendary tree Yggdrasil with an essence of a dementor as a core. I could only wonder.

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Ollivander is still as creepy as I can remember 60 years ago.

"Mr. Ollivander, I presume?" I asked the pale elderly man.

"Indeed, Mr. Potter I have thought that I would see you here soon" The man murmured.

What sort of a reaction should an 11 year old kid say to that? I quashed the urge to scream pedophile as I assumed normal kids don't jump to that conclusion so soon.

As my face contorted through multiple different emotions while I couldn't decide on what reaction to show, the man showed pity on me and chattered inanely to himself about my father's and mother's wands and a brief – completely wrong – explanation about wandlore. I mean seriously who believes that there are only 3 different types of core for all wands?

I began wondering whether I should've just gone to Gregorovitch for a different experience or even better, craft my own wand when the man interrupted me from my musing.

"Please try this one Mr. Potter." He said while handing me a rather plain wand.

"No, not this one" He snatched it quickly.

The following three hours were the most boring hours of my life, and I've had dinner with Abraxas Malfoy all while speaking of how wonderful his clone, son, Lucius was. So trust me, I knew boring.

An unsettling glint appeared in his eyes. Mumbling to his self, and looking to me with a mixture of curiosity, pity and anxiousness. I was half way through the door to report that blasted pedophile to the Aurors when he handed me a Holly wand.

Nothing.

At least the other wands I could feel some spark in it, its hard to describe it but for a person who studied extensively wandlore, there is some of sort quasi-sentience in the wand with a spark of life.

This one was absolutely silent.

The man stood silently perfectly imitating a fish for a moment until he regained his bearings and began muttering something about brother wands… Dumbledore… Fawkes.. Destiny and a whole lot of gibberish, He then snatched it out of my hand furiously and looked at me accusingly as if it was I who was the problem and not because he is such an incompetent dunderhead.

After about 10 minutes of silent handing wands and snatching them back I was interrupted from the rhythm by a warm feeling and multi-colored sparks emitting from my wand.

Finally, victory. As I looked slowly from my book and towards my wand I couldn't help but glance over Ollivander's gaze and was that… disappointment in his eyes? I finally looked at my wand and gasped.

Made of 7 & 1/4 inches of Rosewood and a bloody fucking Unicorn Hair.

I could've seriously lost now and then and started throwing around crucio's if it wasn't for the fact that I was a master occulemens.

I was Lord Voldemort… or Harry Potter.

The point was that my wand should've been something that striked fear in the heart of my enemies as they see it pointed at them. Not laugh because a pink tinted wooded was staring at them, and was that flowers tracing on the wand? Nevertheless, perhaps the Unicorn Hair was from the first Unicorn and was so temperamental that only I could control it.

But that didn't explain Ollivander's dispassionately intoning that it was 7 galleons and if I needed a holster perhaps?

No warnings, no omens of greatness, no interest… absolutely nothing.

"Thank you" I said, forcing the fakest smile barely restricting my eyes from turning red and lashing out in anger.

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I had discovered while chatting with the hat that I wasn't , in fact, schizophrenic nor was I Harry Potter sharing the body with Lord Voldemort. Rather, I was Tom Riddle reborn as Harry Potter, with my malicousness and general evilness tempered by the pure soul of baby Harry. I was now Tom Piddle, or Harry Rotter.

I quickly disregarded Slytherin and Gryffindor. If I am to start a new world under my banner I can't align myself with the extreme dark or light factions so early.

Even my sorting remains one of the most unique in the history of Hogwarts

"Well you're going to have to go somewhere!" the Hat snapped.

This all started due to blocking my mind from that old hat's nose? Cloth? I quickly explained my World Domination plan and that yes, I understand that this ambition is worthy of going to Slytherin. No I won't go to Slytherin because it will alienate me from the other factions.

So we were stuck between one of the hardest choices in my life.

Puffers or Bookworms.

While the smart choice would be going to Ravenclaw as Puffers were automatically degraded as Stupid, Ambitionless Cowards. I remain apprehensive of going there. I was going to completely dominate the Wizarding Curriculum and strive to prove myself above them in each lesson. I had no inclination to deal with whiny bitching ravens. I would practically become their Messiah, Rowena Ravenclaw reborn, they ravens would "badger" me with questions everywhere I go and I needed somewhere to relax.

The hat interrupted my delicate and analytical musings, "Dumbledore, a galleon if you don't mind."

Dumbledore, being the manipulative old bastard he is, hadn't changed his expression at all nor shown any surprise toward the question, while all students and teachers murmured amongst each other.

" Dragon for Ravenclaw and Merlin for Hufflepuff? " The hat asked.

I shrugged vaguely.

Hufflepuff.

The miserable sods broke out in clapping at having THE Harry Potter in their house, as if it was the greatest event in their house since its founding. A not inaccurate belief.

I was going to be the smartest, sneakiest, and bravest I suppose.. puffer in the history of puffers. Their loyalty was truly endearing. I would have had a much easier time starting the Death eaters and probably conquer the World if my power base was made of Hufflepuff instead of Slytherin.

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It seems that the Hufflepuffs are every bit as annoying as the Ravenclaws. Apparently I was the leader of the first year puffs. Unacceptable, my Influence would reach through every corner of Helga's puff, perhaps I should mark my own followers..

But seriously, I don't mind groveling but for a stranger to try and touch me? Personal space doesn't ring a bell with the badgers. And what is it with all the questions? No, I don't need your quill my trust vault is probably worth all your family's body parts in potions ingredients. Yes, I do have ink what did you think I would write with, blood of my enemies? No, I don't actually remember killing the dark lord 10 years ago, do you remember breastfeeding you snot-nosed brat? No, unfortunately scars don't work that way.

After a few days thankfully, the questions stopped but I gained a new self-imposed nemesis in a form of a buck toothed frizzy brown creature. Apparently Miss Granger strived to be as good as me in the muggle world and couldn't, of course, so once again she thought she was something special when she found out she was a witch and again got her black bookish heart broken by my superiority over her in every aspect. It was nothing personal, I was just better than everybody.

She constantly tried to best me at every moment and cried at every class when I got Every. Single. Spell. Better.

Her – and my- reprieve from failure and boredom came from a seemingly innocent Dumbledore that was amenable to my transfer to a higher grade if I wasn't struggling with the curriculum and seemingly learning nothing.

After much thinking on the matter I determined that I should jump ahead as to keep my Image of a Prodigy who could do nothing wrong in the eyes of the society. I only answered correctly the 1st and 2nd year examinations and made myself fail in the 3rd year exams. I had nothing to lose, and an 11 year old, even though I looked older, in higher than 3rd year was a bit ridiculous if I had to say so. As I was my usual show-off self, I took every single elective while I actually attending only Arithmany and Ancient Runes.

The year passed peacefully. I mean I was a Hufflepuff, no matter how famous, so I was practically friendly with everybody, Slytherins built connections with me due to my standing and family wealth, Ravencalws seeked my advanced knowledge, Gryffindors just loved associating with a light paragon such as myself and the Hufflepuffs were already shaping up to my cult. I had no real "friends" to note .

Hufflepuff won the House Cup, mainly due to my superior presence amongst them. I basked in the glory and maintained my manners and smiled patiently and politely and let the sheep cheer in an absolutely barbaric manner, apparently Hufflepuff hasn't won the House Cup since 1783. If I knew how pathetic they were I would've had second doubts, but I found that taking an absolutely pitiful thing from the beginning and re-moulding it and shape it to greatness was for exciting than being a member of the Elite House of Slytherin for example.

I got O's in every single subject, Even History Of Magic, and was rewarded with a year supply of Honeydukes Chocolate. Apparently this was the first time anyone got straight O's in his third year since Albus Dumbledore in 1904. I thought it should be noted that I skipped 2 years and got straight O's while taking all my electives but alas, I don't control the press.

I re-joined the Muggle world briefly in the Summer and I now am the only 12 year old that has 5 PhDs in the World. I couldn't actually let the people forget me. While I would've loved to watch the Dursley's squirm while I live with them. I couldn't actually as even with training I barely tolerated them. So I rented an apartment in Diagon Alley and began my endeavor in finding a Media Representive who could provide Propaganda for the Magical Community and so I could actually control what was being written of me.

Turns out I owned 37.6% of the Daily Prophet with the combined shares of The Potter-Black accounts, after 'donating' a sizable amount to the Prophet so they could expand. I found my vision in the form of a Blonde, Green insect with an almost hungry gaze in her eyes.

Rita Skeeter was everything I imagined my media representative to be , sweet when she wanted to, influential, and could spin a tale of me AK'ing someone to a tragic incident where the Boy-Who-Lived saved the world again.

She was perfect!

With a bit of flattery, charm and a monthly 2,000 galleons contract signed with a blood quill at Gringotts, Rita Skeeter was my Exclusive Editor. She even wanted to start having talks of a book and I admit I was highly intrigued, for some reason no editor wanted to write my Autobiography as a Dark Lord so I relished the opportunity but decided to delay it a bit until I entered the Political Arena.

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I admit I was surprised when I found the same dunderhead that taught us DADA last year teaching us this year, I thought my curse was still in effect. Turns out that the moment I, or rather my past self died the curse was lifted.

This was worrying.

A thousand question began to flow around my head, did that mean my horcruxes failed? What was my mortality status right now?

I quickly checked my closest Horcrux in the Room of Requirment and found out that that my soul piece was gone. I didn't understand. Did they pass onto the afterlife or were they merged back with me? I had an inkling that Horcruxes didn't actually work. I mean where were the thousands of Egyptians Pharaohs and Wizards how split their souls? Where was Herpo the Foul? After all the atrocities I did and the mental damage I suffered from splitting my soul and in the end it was useless?

I decided to not waste any more heirlooms and since my piece soul has seemingly gone poof from the diadem I would present the Diadem lost to the centuries to the Headmaster and earn even more praise for recovering such a precious artificat. All Hail Lord Voldemort.

I quickly thought about it and determined that without my OWLs everything was on standby. I couldn't even open a project, invest with my accounts or enter Wizengamot sessions. So unsurprisingly, I took yet another Placement test and found myself sitting with the 5th years and Dumbledore smiling a proud smile at me and… was that a tear in McGonnagal's Eyes? Probably bemoaning the fact that the smartest girl in her Gryffindorks' couldn't hold a candle to the glory of the badgers.

Oh gods, I am starting to think like a puff.

That year also brought its fair shair of problems, I had a new stalker in the form of a 11 year old red-haired brat, who apparently thought that we were to be married because her mother told her so. Apparently she was a Weasley, I decided to stay the hell away from them, they were probably after my family's money. The most notable thing during that year was finding my chronicles –not diary- in the bag of the little weaslette.

I didn't know what to make of the situation. Here was a girl who stalked me through my classes and had my old self's chronicles in her bag. I automatically became on guard and even contemplated scanning her mind to find her intentions but found myself afraid of the consequences and assumptions she would make if our eyes meet.

I refrained in the end.

Once again, I won the House Cup for my loyal followers who were becoming month after month more smug and even standing proudly amongst Slytherins and Gryffindors.

I breezed through the exams and maintained my rather impressive following in Hufflepuff. While I remained friendless I had contacts with almost every important person in our community by now. Be it the owner of the biggest Potions Apothecary in the UK or the head of a lousy department. I knew each and every single one of them. Rita also manages to provide me with information that is known to no one else. She had dirt on almost everybody, coupled with the Black Book by Cassiopia Black I found in the Black Vault. We could blackmail almost anyone in the Wizarding World.

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I was congratulated by the Minister, The Chief Warlock (Dumbledore), The Supreme Mugwump (Also Dumbledore) , the headmaster (Surprisingly, Dumbledore) and Bathilda Bagshot for receiving 12 O's in my Owls and the highest grades since Albus Dumbledore in 1908 in the Ministry. In an article that showed me as charismatic, intelligent and charming and completely overshadowing Dumbledore by Rita Skeeter, I was fitting in the image of the Magic Prodigy that kills basilisk when he was 7 and captures nundus while sleeping.. I was greeted by almost everybody in the Alley and by the end of the Summer I became a common face always there for everybody and everyone from the deepest slums in Knockturn Alley to The Leaky Cauldron bragged that they knew me "personally" to their friends.

While not an impressive achievement for a 70 year old Dark Lord, I relished in the attention and praise from every corner of the wizarding world as a 13 year old teenager.

But enough of that. For my greatest achievements and eventual ascension to the top of the Wizarding World truly began in my 6th year.

AN/: I would like to point out that I was actually influenced in my writing by a few fanfictions and this is the first time I ever try to write something like this. Please point out to me any consistent Grammar mistakes so I could make sure not to repeat them and reviewing is appreciated

AN2/:Just one more chapter in the HP world then we can move to ASOIAF world. I just want to build a solid non-canon base so I could rely on it further along the story. All suggestions are appreciated.


	2. Chapter 2

AN:/ I hope to have covered everything in the HP world in this chapter. Review and ask any questions.

Following the end of my O.W.L.s and a failed Job Counseling which ended with Professor Sprout obliviated and once again my faith in Hogwarts broken and their close mindedness, I began pondering my choices in life.

You have to understand that by the time I had graduated the first time, the number of Mudbloods were less than Half-bloods and Purebloods by a margin. Looking back now, if there were no World Wars, I probably would've united the so-called oppressed faction of the Wizarding World against the Purebloods. But I had no funding and the rich were usually Purebloods, That and it felt good squandering their money. I honestly had absolutely no belief in blood superiority. In my first life, I was a half-blood with a squib as a mother and a filthy muggle as a father and I still reigned supreme over the other slytherins. My only concern regarding blood was the maintenance of ancient bloodlines.

My only problems were that if I did support them against the minority Purebloods I had to have a pretty large funding, and I wasn't going to waste my money with no revenue to back it up.

I found my answer and funding in the form of the one thing that muggle-borns and half-bloods tried and failed over and over again. Making muggle electronics work in the Wizarding World. They may have failed repeatedly but I, Harry Potter, was far more superior than any wizard, Pureblood or not.

Turns out, even with my intelligence I hit a wall with my research. Apparently Magic makes the electrons inside of any metal goes fuzzy as fuck, which causes the wires to melt rather spectaculary. While I could replace the copper wires with a more stable conduit of magic, I would have to also replace every microchip, wire in any appliance with runes, which essentially meant I would be rebuilding the whole thing. I found my answer in the creepy old wandmaker known as Ollivander. I had put some sort of a miniature wands with the core of a 3-Year-Old Nargle, turns out the buzzing sound usually accompanied with Nargles was the sound of magic being sucked to maintain its invisibility. Using these nifty creatures I managed to amplify their effect into a wooden ball – a conduit of magic – and place runes that only allows magic inside and transform it and release it as electricity. There was only a problem of their discharging and the extinction of their illustrious species but that was quickly remedied by the Potter-Lovegood Mythical Creatures Natural Reserve. While I got billions almost as soon as we began selling our appliances that work anywhere to muggleborns and halfbloods who wanted to live in the Wizarding World , the Natural Reserve was my first step into the Political Arena

My Sixth Year arrived with no special surprises, except that Sirius Black and Bellatrix managed to fight each other and got their souls kissed by the dementors over a game of Gobstones. Why they allow Gobstones in Azkaban, we can only guess. But I was now the head of the Black Family. Lucius threw a hissy fit ofcourse as his son had a higher claim than I, but the will of Sirius Black coupled with the Black blood I had and a completely unrelated gesture of my eyes turning red and filled with malicious intent, which I am quite sure the goblin noticed but chose to ignore, and he started sputtering apologizes and tripping out of the bank as fancifully as a Malfoy can.

I still look upon my Seventh year with fondness, The Goblet of Fire was introduced at the beginning of the year and as this was my last year in Hogwarts and I don't actually need to study 12 Newts or not. I decided that I would go out with a bang and win that children's tournament as I was bought from the moment Dumbledore uttered eternal glory.

I was mightily disappointed of course, get a golden egg? While I wanted to carve the stone which the nest sat upon and summon it as whole or even summon and banish the dragons neck simultaneously, I always had a flair for theatrics. In a mighty battle which I turn the Dragon's fire into a fiendy dragon of itself and made it attack the dragon, summoned chains of steel from the ground as if they were summoned from hell itself, and proceeded to subdue the dragon in an impressive fashion in an act of magic that these children have probably never seen before and got my egg in ten minutes.

The second task was equally as disappointing as the first. Still I think I was pretty impressive, I pulled a Moses during the second task and actually fucking parted the Lake for the spectators which had the judges of the foreign schools gaping.

The third task was truly fucking boring, As I was set first to go, The moment the bell rang I had already carved out a path dead center in the maze, transformed into my animagus form – a rather good looking Dark Phoenix, Black and Gold and 5 times as big as Fawkes, got the Goblet and arrived back all in less than 50 seconds.

I appreciated the one thousand galleon which were promptly sent to as an incentive for research as I couldn't "encourage" my researchers with crucio's these days. Truly being evil was far more liberating but I actually cringe these days and shy away from actual torture; an unfortunate side effect of being reborn.

I utterly smashed my way through the records for the NEWTS, I mean getting all O's was impressive in itself but getting 12 O's and the highest grade in every single NEWT was a first in 690 years!

I returned to the Muggle World head held up high and disgustingly rich with the best research facilities anyone can afford in both worlds, both were working together with the strongest Dark secrecy charms that I could cast, pouring money in my pockets.

I was quickly surrounded by wealthy purebloods who all wished that I join their factions, I gently rebuffed all of them. I was going to break wizarding politics forever!

I had already started attending Wizengamot sessions; almost everybody was kissing my ass. I was firmly neutral for the first 5 years as I spent them pilfering through Nicholas Flamel's knowledge and eventually making my own Philosopher's stone, it was only 20 years later that I had discovered that it was by a request from Dumbledore that he offered an apprenticeship to me. I loved the irony of Dumbledore giving me even more secret knowledge, the old man actually died on 1999 by choking on a lemon drop. I honestly had nothing to do with it. Fawkes decided to join me on my immortal conquest throughout the world, it also may had something to do with my beautiful anamigus form.

The following decades passed in a blur, I supported the half bloods and mud bloods while periodically influencing the minds of the Pureblood children by compulsions to shy away from marrying other purebloods, in 50 years there was not a single Pureblood in Britain.

Following the Pureblood extinction, The wizarding community made itself invaluable towards the muggles mostly by few enchantments and runes carved on generators to make them run on magic, unbreakable charms and everlasting-motion runes did wonders to the muggles. The entire world energy was soon supported by secret facilities that were mostly run by muggles and only called in periodically for maintenances and improvements. In return nuclear weapons, missiles, bullets and almost every way to kill a person was available for us to study which we promptly made Magical-Areas-Only wards against.

Regardless of the prosperity of Muggles and the symbiotic relationship between us, it was soon evident that we couldn't live comfortably while the muggles continued polluting the world, it was a shit-hole living in most places in the world by the year 2200. The earth was getting seriously cramped and the pollution was harming magic as a whole.

It was ridiculously easy to place subtle compulsions on World Leaders and send a discreet nuke bomb from North Korea to The United States and boom! A third world war which ended up with almost the entirety of earth filled with radioactive waste and almost 98% of the muggles dead, their farms unusable and whoever left alive was barely hanging off life.

The radioactive waste took almost 30 years to cleanse using druidic magic and massive cleansing rituals that used almost all the remaining muggles blood. It was seen as a fair recompense for the destruction their species has done to the planet.

The earth was soon back in top shape and I had finally achieved my dream, a wizarding Utopia! The birth rates of wizards sky-rocketed as soon as most muggles and their filthy toys were cleansed, the chemicals were reacting badly with witches. 3 centuries and I had no heir and the biggest monopoly and the wizarding world and probably fucked both your grandchildren and their grandchildren. Uniting the hallows, consuming life elixir and my botched up horcrux attempt meant that I wasn't going to lose my stamina or youth any time soon. I had a few passing relationships but none that I actually cared to marry.

My life in the world has continued to a throughout the past few centuries; fucking, drinking, Inventing and ruling the world efficiently for the most prosperous years in the history of mankind.

Eventually; according to Death, who has become my only somewhat friend and companion the sun was going to go boom, and not even I, Lord Voldemort, could do anything about it. Natural order of things, he said. Now you might think that I would bemoan the fact that I was immortal and that I couldn't fall in love or see my family in the afterlife. Why would I do that?

I was immortal, I most likely slept with a billion girls, I had everything I ever wanted, I visited wonderful places. Really being immortal never got boring. I got to fly to outer space even and created the first Naked Inter Galactic Broom Race Charity Event which is one of my proudest achievements so far. So when Death told me that no, I couldn't actually move on. I was elated! But I wasn't going to just stick around Death until it's time for other planets and the entire universe to end.

No, I was far greater than that.

I was going to travel through dimensions.

With a combination of runes, arithmancy and space-time physics and ritual that most likely absorbed the remaining magical energy in the planet. I succeeded.

Unfortunately, I couldn't transfer my entire immortal body through the ritual; only my soul, knowledge and memories.

So with a bit of help from Death in pinpointing my soul so it doesn't end up in a commoner's body or god forbid, a woman's body, I managed to transport my soul to a ,hopefully , a good body.

283 AC, Starfall, Dorne

I blearily opened my eyes and tried to concentrate on my surroundings, I was lying on a rather uncomfortable crib and I could hear voices in the distant. Must be my parents! I was excited and a tad nervous, I was an orphan dark lord in my first life and a light paragon leader in my second life, also an orphan. I had never experienced the feeling of parents caring for me and wondered how I should communicate with them. Would they be obstacles and constantly coddling me, an 800 years old former dark lord?

As I looked to my right I could see my mother for the first time, I instinctively knew she was my mother. She was tall, almost 5'7". Her long dark hair was framing her pale skin, tumbling around her shoulders, with piercing violet eyes that were glistering with unshed tears she suddenly looked out of the window and let out a wail of agony and promptly threw herself from the tower..

That was odd…

I truly didn't care about having parents but this was getting ridiculous, I had the pleasure of being born into three different bodies and each time my mother died in infancy. I held no hope that my father in this world was still alive. It probably had something to do with some morbid cosmic joke between the Gods.

I was quickly cradled by a pair of rough hands and had a look at the grimmest looking person I've ever seen in my entire life, and I had a long life.

He whispered softly, "Hello, little Brandon. I am your uncle Ned."

Wonderful.

From what I could skim off the filthy muggle who was dressed up ridiculously, my father is also called Brandon Stark – Muggles were truly creative , The heir to Winterfell, and future Lord Paramount of the North. Or rather was called, turns out he was killed by the "Mad King" who had him bound with a leather cord around his neck and a longsword just out of reach, causing him to strangle himself trying to get to the sword to save my grandfather who was being cooked alive infront of him. Both were there to retrieve my aunt, who was kidnapped, raped and eventually died due to birth fever a couple of weeks ago.

What a lovely family.

I could see myself fitting in with them.

Now if someone could get me a pair of tits so I can have some milk I would truly be content.

AN:/ Did that in a bit of a rush, hopefully next one will be longer. If anyone is willing to beta this, pm me. I also know this one's a bit of a low quality.

Next chapter will be in Winterfell!

I blatantly copied the name and father of Harry/Lord Voldemort from gridlocker as it was the only way to fit Harry inside the stark household and start fulfilling some of my ideas as soon as possible and not waste 16 years.

Suggestions are welcome!


	3. Chapter 3

281 AC, Starfall, Eddard Stark's POV

"And you couldn't tell me that Brandon married a Dornish Girl in secret before I agreed to marry Hoster Tully's Daughter," I asked.

Howland Reed, Brandon's former squire and my friend answered," Brandon made me swear not to tell a soul before he left for King's Landing."

"He looks a lot like Brandon, except for his eyes, must be his mother's." I said while cooing over Brandon.

Howland hummed noncommittally.

"It's weird though," As I looked questioningly, he elaborated,"Ashara, jumping out of the tower leaving her child."

"Lord Dayne says that for the first few minutes the child was not breathing. Coupled with grief for her lost brother and husband, she must have thought she lost everything."

"Well, at least you got what you wanted. Little Brandon here gets to be the Warden of the North while you get cozy with your lady wife in a castle or keep of your choosing."

"Yes, my wife who was offered to me on the concept of being a lord paramount." I grumbled.

"Expecting trouble from Hoster Tully?" Howland asked out of curiosity.

I sighed," He's going to through a fit for sure. Our marriage was on the assumption that his grandchildren would be Lords Paramount of the North and the Vale one day."

"I never liked the opportunistic son of a bitch anyway, refusing to join us in the rebellion unless he sells his daughters to two Lords of the Great Houses," Growled Howland.

"Well what do you expect? The Riverlands have been the Westerosi playground since the Age of Heroes, almost every war between the Great Houses has occurred on his lands. It seems somewhat logical to bind the North and the Eastern Houses to his family," I sighed.

"And I'm sure it has nothing to do with Lady Catelyn's tits," Said Howland amusedly.

"What, I-I Yes.. But—" –I Spluttered as I could feel my face glowing, discussing my Lady Wife, rather glorious, tits brought back pleasant memories- "Shut up, Howland"

"He's going to raise Hell, you know," Said Howland nodding at the other bundle snuggled firmly in furs and strapped to a wet nurse chest.

"I know"

"Not even Brandon, the Wild Wolf, had a bastard."

"I know!"

"So when the honorable Ned Stark gets a bastard who's only 2 months younger than your trueborn son, People are definitely going to ask questions"

"I know, Reed. I know damn it!"

Howland trotted off in front of us while laughing loudly.

281 AC, King's Landing

We've been traveling for almost two weeks now, carefully avoiding any angry Dornishmen. Thinking about Dorne made me angry almost immediately. Although I knew that the biggest threat to our already fragile peace was the Targaryen children. I could never fathom my best friend justifying murder of children so brutally like that. But a missive from Jon Arryn, ordered us to pass through King's landing before we head back to Winterfell, as to mend our differences and deliver the grave news personally.

King's landing still smelled like shit, blood and dead people. While the city has somewhat began to heal from the sacking caused by the Lannisters. It's effect was still obvious.

As I started walking into the Red keep carrying two bundles on my strapped to my shoulders. I couldn't help but notice that little Brandon looked almost inquisitively to his surroundings. I wasn't the best person with children but I figured that parents speak to children from an early age to encourage speaking or something like that.

"This is the Red Keep, little Brandon, The castle which the King rules from."

As his eyes were following wherever I was pointing and seemingly looked attentive, I knew I scored a point in parenting.

"This is the throne room," I said while we walked through the huge wooden door, "Err.. Your father and grandfather were killed here," I said somewhat awkwardly.

I could've sworn by the Old Gods, New Gods, the Drowned God and even the Summer Islands' Sixteen tits God that he raised his eyebrow incredulously and looked at me disappointedly. I couldn't actually think of anything else to tell him while we walked inside the Throne Room.

"Ned," Boomed Robert.

Eddard had very carefully practiced not jumping when Robert boisterously called him, little Jon Snow unfortunately, had no such training and woke up wailing.

"Robert," I hissed while softly cooing and cradling Jon, "lower your gods damned voice."

As Robert continued to look amusedly at the sight of Eddard Stark acting like a young mother, Jon Arryn interjected quietly, "Perhaps we should convene to another place and leave the children you somewhat brought back with a wet nurse."

I handled the two babes to the wet nurse as softly as I could manage and followed Robert and my foster father to a room right behind the throne room.

"Perhaps you could enlighten us on what you found in the Tower of Joy and the identity of the two babes," Said Jon as soon as we sat down.

The mood quickly sobered.

I gulped and answered, "We arrived at the Tower of Joy and found the remaining members of the Kingsguard, Lord Commander Gerold Hightower, Ser Arthur Dayne and Ser Oswell Whent, we managed to kill them but not before they killed 5 of us. By the time I reached the tower, Lyanna was suffering from the fever and without a proper Maester she died quickly."

Robert growled while throwing his wine cup across the romm, "Sister-fucking incest ridden dragonspawns."

"And the children," asked Jon.

"One is Brandon Stark, son of my elder brother and Ashara Dayne."

"and the other.." prodded Jon.

"Hesmybastard" I mumbled.

"Come again?"

"He's my bastard, Jon snow."

Robert lost his somber mood and quickly gained an amused look while Jon looked at me pointedly.

"You named your bastard after me?" Jon asked with a genial smile.

"Of course"

"How cute," said Jon sarcastically, "and I suppose you are going to be Brandon's regent in Winterfell until he reaches his majority?"

"I don't know yet, I was hoping that Benjen could step in and fill that role for him. While I will stay with them for 3 years or so and move to Moat Cailin," I answered.

"Hoster is going to be pissed."

"Fuck Hoster Tully and fuck the Riverlands, if he has a problem tell him to go the goddamn king," said Robert.

"Thank you, Robert" I said gratefully," I was worried of how he would react."

"Serves the god damned bastard right, I'm still pissed that he refused to join us before he sold his daughters," grumbled Robert.

"Very well then, we will provide you with a ship that will take you to White Harbor. Right now, I have some duties to finish and Ned has to go breastfeed the children," Jon said getting up.

Robert broke out laughing while I sputtered embarrassedly.

I wasn't looking forward for the rest of my stay here.

Kingsroad, 281 AC, Brandon's POV

My visit to the Red Keep along with my uncle was brief, full of naps, boobs and regularly shitting myself just to fuck with the wet nurse.

Although I probably should've paid more attention to the so-called Capital of the continent of Westeros, I couldn't bring myself to focus on such a minor matter. I had an epiphany while I was being walked through the throne room. Once again I couldn't actually anagram my name into a somewhat awesome new name. I truly couldn't expect a lot, My first life was lucky as fuck – except you know, my father abandoning me, living in an orphanage, being bullied as a child – but my name, although a mudblood name, was convenient as fuck. So while the truly christened Brandon Stark wasn't going to get called Tankards Born anytime soon, I still was going to get called Lord Stark. You don't get everything in life.

I already found a companion who apparently was called Jon Snow, A bastard. I couldn't actually believe they still gave a shit about whether your parents are married or not. But blaming a child because his father couldn't keep his cock in his pants was just sick; Which fit my plans exactly!

Hundreds of bastards everywhere reviled by nobles and religion and I was going to collect each and every one of them in my personal guard. Perhaps I should call them death eaters again? Or name them the Order of the Phoenix and make them wear death eater robes and masks as a fuck you to Dumbledore's memory? It is still too early to decide.

I couldn't wait to actually reach this Winterfell though, this moronic dunderhead that is my uncle is carrying me in a completely unacceptable way. I can barely hold myself from crucio'ing him every time he holds me at a weird angle. I mean would it kill him if he just fucking left me with the wet nurse? I was an ex-dark lord for fuck's sake and this was a new type of evil.

Winterfell, 281 AC, Benjen's POV

After Brandon's death, Lya's kidnapping and Ned's march to war while I remained the Stark of Winterfell. I remained antsy and checking ravens every dawn expecting I would see a raven carrying the rest of my sibling's death. I couldn't help but think all of this could've been avoided. If I only followed Lya into the godswood the day she was kidnapped, perhaps I would've managed to save her, perhaps I would've been killed while she was taken. I could've done something at least. But staying here while the entire north is rebelling in the south is truly mind wrecking. There was nothing else that I could busy myself with; the North was almost completely empty.

So when the raven announcing the rebels victory and the sacking of King Landing I couldn't help but feel elated. Ned's going to bring back Lya and I could take the black. I really had nothing to offer to the North anyway. Perhaps I can serve on the wall to do something useful in my life once.

That's also why I've been staring at the letter that just arrived uncomprehending what was written for the past few minutes. It was only 4 sentences.

Lyanna's dead. Brandon had an heir with Ashara Dayne. I have a bastard. You'll be regent for Brandon's son.

Typical Ned.

I mean he was always known as the quiet wolf but this is taking it a bit too far. Would it hurt him to elaborate a bit? Why couldn't he be regent for Brandon's son? That was so like Ned to run away from the responsibilities of the Warden of the North as soon as he's offered an opening.

I could've deluded myself and promise to the old gods that I would make Brandon's son the best Lord the North ever had, but I would be lying.

I had absolutely no idea how to rule the North. I was the third son!

I glanced towards old Maester Luwin and Jory. They have been mostly running Winterfell in my stead. And I heard a new whorehouse opened just outside Wintertown.

"Yes, this could work" I thought while a grin started to make its way on my face.

Winterfell, 281 AC, Ned's POV

I took a deep breath as soon as I passed Winterfell's gates, as to reacquaint myself with the smell of the North. Benjen looked, well, as Stark as he could I guess. If you can call this ridiculous face a Stark face. Didn't anyone teach Ben the difference between a grim face and a constipated face? Jon, my bastard, managed to pull the Stark look at 1 year old way better than he could.

Ah, there was my wife. She looked awkwardly out of place but managed to stay imperiously hot at the same time. I took the babes from the wet nurse to present them to my family, I could see her emotions clearly on her face, fluctuating between surprise, confusion, comprehension, shame. Her face then paled rapidly and she somehow managed to smile while her eyes should the cold rage she really felt.

I quickly ran to introduce the children, she must have thought they were both mine. I imagine that was what she would feel if I returned with two bastards. I had to salvage the situation

"This is Brandon Stark, Heir to Winterfell, son of Brandon Stark and Ashara Dayne." I said while presenting the first bundle.

She let an almost audible sigh of relief, and asked, "Who's the other one?"

"Oh that's my only bastard Jon, Jon Snow," I answered proudly. Brandon always thought that he was the only Stark that was a ladies man. I obviously had the same instinct and could understand women almost better than Brandon ever did.

So when the same look of rage returned, accompanied by Benjen, Jory and even old Maester Luwin sniggering, you must realize I had no idea why. I turned around to greet the others leaving the wife alone to figure out her problems. Perhaps she was pissed that she won't be the Lady of the North. Well, the little southern lady should suck it up. I was never raised or fit to be the Warden of the North. I was raised in the South for god's sake.

Just when I was greeting the rest, she said with a sweet voice hiding a dark undertone, "Don't you want to meet your son, Robb, my lord husband?" with an almost audible grinding of her teeth.

I stumbled and almost dropped the two bundles to the ground when I realized my folly and Ben had to catch them, while I smiled weakly.

The grinding of her teeth never stopped though, and I could feel a foreboding sense that I was going to sleep on the floor tonight.

I should've stayed with Robb when he offered it.

281 AC, Riverrun, Hoster Tully

Being Lord Paramount of the Riverlands was never easy, Surrounded by opportunistic houses that are just waiting for a fall of grace for my house to jump in my place as Lord Parmaount was stressing. The Mallister's, were one of the most stable, wealthy houses in the Riverlands. The blasted Frey's were also a constant annoyance with them controlling the passage between the Southern Kingdoms and the North. Every move has to be calculated and done with precision. Every action was a risk. The previous rebellion, while I agreed with it wholeheartedly, was a huge risk. The Frey's or the Mallister's could have easily ignored me and let me run off to war on my own. And should the rebellion fail, they would automatically be the new Lord Parmaount. Infact, I think that was exactly why Walder Frey arrived so late.

So when the war arrived, it was an opportunity. Sure, it was for a noble cause and ever since the dragons died the clock has been ticking for the Targ's dynasty. But it was still an opportunity. I've already wanted to bind my house to the North in the form of a betrothal between Catelyn and Brandon Stark, but unfortunately we couldn't formalize anything before he died in King's Landing along with his father. So when Jon Arryn, Ned Stark and Robert Baratheon arrived at Riverrun and asked me to call my banners in support to their cause, I knew I held all the cards and used them like any Lord would. To some, selling off their daughters may look cruel. But I seriously loved my daughters and there was not a better marriage than to a lord paramount out there, except perhaps a royal marriage.

The Riverlands have always suffered throughout the wars; with no natural defenses and being rather flat and fertile. It was a playground for all the kingdoms' armies. Truly, the Riverlands has suffered way too many wars that it would damage any Lord Parmount's psyche. So I grabbed the chance as soon as I saw it. I initially wanted to marry my Lysa to Lannister's son, but I was rebuffed. The other alternative was securing my northern and eastern borders from any conflict. So marrying my Lysa and Catelyn to Arryn and Stark respectively in exchange for the Riverlands fertile ground and levies sounded like a great trade-off.

Of course everything had to go pear shaped for the fucking Riverlands.

The resurgence of Brandon Stark's hidden son from Lady Ashara Dayne, a great house in Dorne, proved to be a thorn to his plans. His grandchildren were meant to rule the 3 kingdoms not some Dornish bastard, and knowing Jon Arryn's unfortunate history with wives and heirs, I wasn't really placing much hope in Lysa. Paired with my injury at the Trident which still gave me trouble breathing and Brynden constantly ignoring my commands and refusing to marry made me look like a blasted pelutant child who kept yelling and got nothing in return infront of my bannermen.

I could've easily announced the boy a bastard and had no claim to Winterfell except that blasted Ned Stark who announced that his nephew was the Heir for Winterfell. Nobody even put a claim; I doubt the Daynes would've bothered themselves with the far North. But the honorable Ned Stark announced as soon as Robert Baratheon took the Iron throne that he has a nephew in Dorne who would be the future Lord Parmaount and just like that my plans went down the drain.

Still, the king could've easily announced that the boy was a bastard and Ned would be the Warden of the North, but no.

Robert knew his friend never wanted to be Lord of Winterfell. Eddard Stark wanted a simple keep or castle to rule, not an entire kingdom. That and Robert Baratheon still held a grudge because he wouldn't give them his levies and supplies before the wedding, effectively shackling his best friend.

I'll have to wait to see what the future holds. Perhaps try to bring a Lannister bride to Brynden, or perhaps my youngest Edmure. Bah, who am I kidding. It was quickly evident that Edmure was a disappointment who spent all his time whoring and drinking with those bastard friends of his and he was as likely to marry as Brynden was. Not at all.

For the first time since I took my father's seat at Riverrun, I could truly sense that the Tully's was truly falling.

281 AC, Winterfell, Brandon's POV

I slowly regained my eyesight and could see clearly almost midway through our journey to Winterfell. I was almost disappointed by what I saw, this world was basically in the early medieval era and according to the bits and pieces of knowledge I managed to pilfer from my uncle, it has remained in stagnation for almost 8000 years, With no notable breakthroughs in science, more importantly, no other wizards. I didn't think Wizards would need to hide from the filthy muggles when they didn't have gun powder or cannons, but I should still check so to not face any surprises.

I almost felt a familiarity when we passed the Neck, into the North. Almost like.. Home? The moment that I knew that I was the future ruler of the North, I decided they would be like my Badgers. Perhaps a change to the ridiculous Direwolf sigil into a dangerous badger is in order. Still too early to tell.

The ride was long, boring and tiresome. Everything you'd expect from this hovel of a world. I was almost tempted to legillimens the fuck out my uncle and just apparate us to Winterfell but sadly, my infant mind has not yet developed to allow me to copy his knowledge, that and showing magic so early was a big no no. While my Slytherin instincts screamed inside of me to proclaim myself a god amongst men and systematically conquer the world single-handedly. My more sneaky Hufflepuff side was urging caution and to build the North into a legacy that fit my dreams, using magic subtly and improving the otherwise limitations using basic science. Basic enough to make my kingdom rise, not too advanced so as to not re-do the complete failure that was muggles back in my world.

You have to understand by the time I got out of school, Hufflepuff alumnus were leading the world, already placed in strategically locations in the magical community. I had my doubts that it was a conspiracy far older than any of us, and that Huffelpuffs were slowly building an empire that overlooked them in the beginning until their Jesus, Me, could come to them and turn the tables.

It was too early to start doing anything unfortunately; I had to work through a regent. Maybe in 3 or 4 years when I could walk and of a respectable size I could take over personally. For now, I was going to have to trust (read; influence the mind and submit to my will) my uncle Benjen to lay the foundations. I had no time to waste.

Entering Winterfell was a rather disappointing and intriguing experience. I could feel magic somewhat similar to the magic of Hogwarts in its walls. The aesthetics however, were dreadful. The dark, snow-riddled walls, ivy-encrusted stone towers added a sense of danger somehow. It was a mixture between English and Scottish castles. Two staggering stone walls fortifying the castle and a moat placed between. The castle looked like it stood for thousands of years, which it probably did. The castle spanned several acres with a complex of courtyards and small open spaces. The inner ward contained an older open space which from the looks of it, where archery practice takes place. A large broken tower stands next to the main castle. The walls were made of granite, covered with the grey stark banners. The doors were made of oak and iron and somehow managed to look grey as well. The first keep was a strategic base of operations , I could see it was no longer in use, with a couple of towers with mundane uses. All in all, it looked like a hovel. Sure an ominous and scary hovel. But I could see that it needed some serious work. I was going to completely re-design it. With money and concrete I could finish it in almost 5 years.

On our journey to the North, I quickly decided that on top of my plans would be building a proper road network. It would greatly help trade and transport and more importantly, not cause me tremendous back ache.

While the North was tremendously huge, full of resources and by extending my awareness and tapping into Earth's natural magic, full of gold, silver and a ridiculous amount of iron ore. I would have to use my magic to pull it up to the ground a bit to ease the mining process. I should also figure out how to populate the Northern territory a bit more. But that would be easily done as soon as we have jobs and resources to fill the land a bit.

Reaching out with my magic outwards I could feel a seriously large vault, with a blood-ward on the door. From what I could determine, the vault hasn't been touched in almost 4000 years. I will have to check it out as soon as I'm able. It might prove to be rewarding.

Everything can be addressed as soon as I just fucking regain complete control over my movements and stop shitting myself.

All hail Lord Star-Voldemort.

God, Not again.

AN:/ 2 Chapters in two days. Please review and suggest what to name the Elite fighting force Brandon? Harry? Voldemort? Is going to start. Death eaters sounds so unimaginative. Winter knights also sounds uncreative. To what extent should the Northern military power increase and still sound believable? SUGGEST!

AN2:/ Should I include a healthy relationship between Brandon and someone? I already have something in mind but I would appreciate other ideas.


	4. Chapter 4

Winterfell, Brandon's POV

I have successfully managed to enhance my growth using magic, an amazing achievement I know. At the age of 2 years old I was already the size of a 4 year old child with total control over my movement. I was elated! While I would miss the wide variety of tits that I used to drink from –seriously, uncle Benjen brought me 20 different wet nurses, all inspected personally. My adventures around Winterfell have proved fruitful. The castle seemed to have its own magic, which eased the process of implementing wards. I had intent-based wards, lighting wards – to strike any sieging army, Foe-or-friend, a ridiculous amount of spying wards, anti-theft and loyalty enforcing wards. I wasn't taking any chances with trust and loyalty of the residents of Winterfell and Wintertown. Personal freedom is great and everything but trust and loyalty are a fickle thing, and these wolves were no badgers.

The vault that was located under the crypts was unfortunately blocked by the floor of the crypt, So naturally I demolished the floor with a flick of my hand and re-assembled it with a mixture of transfiguration and charms so It would open theatrically and the floor would split and re-arrange itself into stairs when a stark spills blood on the statue of Bran the Builder Crypt.

Inside, I found a veritable wealth of knowledge and gold. My initial count of the gold inside is almost 4 million dragons, not counting the gems, weapons and artifacts. The vault entrance started beneath the crypts and was expanded until it covered the entirety of Winterfell's underground. Almost 2/5 of the vault was full of books, mostly were worthless, but some had the blueprints of Winterfell and the Wall which greatly assisted me in uncovering other magic protected rooms and passages in the castle. I also found a ridiculous amount of Valyrian steel weapons, which greatly reminded me of Damascus steel back on Earth, the method was lost even back on Earth but I was a fucking wizard for fuck's sake and I had a pretty good relationship with Death, thus no knowledge was lost to me. All hail Lord Stark.

I managed to relocate around 50 thousand dragons into a hidden room in Winterfell, claimed to have discovered it, and quickly influenced my uncle to start expanding Winterfell, fix the first keep and the broken tower and lay stones the ground instead of the filthy mud in the courtyard and expand the surrounding farms fivefold. While I could've just revolutionized farming, ship-making and military of the North, I knew nobody would take a 4 year old who, to their knowledge, never read a book before or started his formal education with the Maester. And I sure as hell wasn't going to let my uncle Benjen get all the praise for his improvements of the North. No, the North survived the past 8,000 years on its own it could wait a few years more while I assert my genius status in this world.

So when the maester found me reading in the library at a ridiculous rate and with a little push from me, he convinced my uncle that being able to learn my letters and numbers alone was an incredible achievement and shouldn't be wasted, that's why I just copied his entire knowledge and began flaunting my knowledge hiding it behind an eidetic memory. The maester was thrilled, it seemed that previous Starks weren't particularly intelligent and he recalled some mentions of scholars of the past being able to memorize a page by simply reading it once. I hit him with yet another compulsion, to convince my uncles that I should consider going to the Citadel for a few years just to forge some chains, not unheard of for sons of Nobles.

Making sure the expansion and improvements to my new base was being taken care of, I packed my bags and decided to accept the Maester's 'advice'. And that's why I was at the age four on the way to the so-called Hub of knowledge in Westeros.

284 AC, Winterfell

"Are you sure about this," Said Ned watching the party of Brandon leaving Winterfell.

Maester Luwin replied, "Lord Stark, I wouldn't dare send Lord Brandon to the Citadel – to my colleagues, without making sure that he is indeed as good as I mentioned to them in the letters, he could rise to become an Archmaester in no time."

"I know Luwin, I know. He's just a bit too young that's all."

"Lord Benjen has sent 30 Stark men to accompany him to the Citadel and no man was ever harmed inside the Citadel," He said frowning.

"Don't worry Ned, I made sure to tell Brandon that he shouldn't take any vows as it's his duty to rule Winterfell," Benjen interrupted playfully.

"It's not like I'm afraid of ruling the North Ben," Ned said sighing, "I wasn't even raised in Winterfell. Most of my life was spent at the Eyrie, I'm not a true Northman."

"It was father's decision to foster you at the Eyrie Ned not yours."

"Aye, it was," Ned said sadly.

"Enough of the depressing talk, how's little Robb and Jon?"

"They already started sparring with wooden sticks and are growing up like brothers instead of trueborn son and a bastard."

"And Lady Catelyn," Ben prodded.

"She's well."

"You know what I'm talking about Ned."

"She… tolerates him, but he's beginning to notice and started being a little bit distant."

"You can leave him here in Wintefell, you know."

"No! He's my flesh and blood."

"And I'm his uncle Ned," Ben said with a raised eyebrow.

"No, just- just drop it Ben. Jon is my responsibility."

"Very well," Ben said walking away.

284 AC, Oldtown, The Reach.

We've been riding hard for almost a month with no problems; a portable notice-me-not ward may have assisted in that. From what I could see in my journey, the northern army was made of levies. That was completely unacceptable. A trained elite force of a thousand could probably run circles around ten thousand levies. The only force with a semblance of training and discipline were Knights, which were not available in the North as followers of the Old Gods. But that was for another day.

It was hard not to appreciate the beauty of Highgarden, even though we never really entered the castle it looked straight out of a Disney movie. Majestic, but not really what I was aiming for with Winterfell. The seat of house Tyrell, the second richest house in monetary value and richest in terms of food had fields of golden roses that stretched as far as the eye can see. The castle itself had almost a glowing look to it, Situated on a broad, symmetrically shaped hill, the castle includes three concentric tiers of white stone walls, which increase in height and thickness as one travels upwards. Between the outermost and middle walls is Highgarden's famous "briar maze", a labyrinth of beautifully maintained hedges. I reigned in the part of me that wanted to unleash carefully controlled fiendfyre into the maze and just burn the surrounding grounds for the fun of it and we passed peacefully.

The Citadel was as a university-like complex of buildings extending along both banks of the River Honeywine in Oldtown, linked by graceful bridges. While it wasn't as beautiful as fancy as universities back in Earth it still retained a Ravenclaw-like presence. The Order of Maesters exhibited a huge deal of influence in all of the seven kingdoms. Every castle, keep or land in Westeros had a maester in it whom acted as 'advisors' and most likely spied on the lords they served. Whether they served their own self-interests or that of Hightower was a mystery that would most definitely be known the moment I make eye-contact with the archmaesters. The ruling council of the citadel was called the Conclave, composed of the aforementioned archmaesters, which elects the new Grand Maester after the passing of the old, decides on policies, and attends to the administration of the Citadel as well as the training of new recruits. The Conclave also appoints the Seneschal, the maester who has to run the bureaucracy of the Citadel on a day-to-day basis, which is considered drudgery.

Much like the professors in a university faculty, each of the archmaesters is the foremost expert in a specific field, such as the archmaester of medicine or the archmaester of economics, etc. The maesters crafted individual links composed of various metals to signify their fields of expertise. There was 16 recognized fields in the Citadel each with a different metal. From what I could ascertain from Maester Luwin's knowledge, the citadel focused on scientific magic and greatly disdained magic. An unfortunate setback but I was determined to pilfer every bit of knowledge inside the walls of the citadel and gain a reputation of extreme intelligence, only then could I answer the unknowingly given slight of the archmaesters.

Upon my entry in the Citadel I was greeted by 16 figures which looked more like a group of beggars with their silly grey robes than Knights of Knowledge. I had a feeling that the entirety of the Conclave didn't usually welcome a recruit individually. Perhaps it was because it was the Warden of the North himself that was attending, or the glowing letter Maester Luwin delivered.

"Lord Stark, truly a pleasure to have you here at Oldtown," Said the old bastard no.3

I nodded politely and we stood in an uncomfortable silence for a moment before he began introducing the other Archmaesters, I didn't actually care about any of them but I was a little creeped out by one Archmaester Marwyn who was probably the re-incarnation of Garrick Ollivander with his creepy stare.

"We will let you rest for now and perhaps we could meet tomorrow to test you and decide which subjects you would study," the man said.

"Little shit probably can't even read," grumbled one of the old men – The archmaester of Mathematics grumbled softly.

I turned my gaze towards him and softly said with a dark tone, "I assure you I can perfectly read, you old fossil."

As the man sputtered in indignation, one of the Archmaesters who has been silent so far interjected, "You have to understand, Lord Stark that this is incredibly irregular. The claims made by Maester Luwin were incredibly outrageous, a 4 years old and could memorize a page from simply reading it once. You have to understand our skepticism."

"Of course, We will simply have to see tomorrow," I said, turning my back on them and walking off towards where my quarters were.

The next day started off with basic questions that were relevant to my basic education back with my personal Maester, the Archmaesters were greatly impressed so I decided to break them even more.

As I finished the test they provided, I was questioned by each of the Archmaesters for almost 30 minutes each. My answers were perfect and contained references to books including the page and line number of each answer. By the time I was showing them some Greek and medieval Mathematics and Geometry knowledge, namely Brandon's theory (formerly Pythagoras),the medieval abacus, showed them invention of my personal clock which divided the day into 24 hours, an hour into 60 minutes and a minute into 60 seconds they were almost drooling and gazing hungrily at me.

They promised to send a letter to the Grandmaester and invite him personally back to the Citadel to witness my inventions and theories. They were elated by my graphs and were about a second from kicking the former Arithmetic Archmaester and instating me in his stead. Of course they were disappointed to learn that as soon as I finish forging my chains, which I would most likely do in a couple of months, I would leave back to the North. I managed to placate them and began negotiating on establishing another base to the order in the North funded by me as soon as possible to 'spread the light of the order further in the seven kingdoms'.

The really interesting part of my questioning by the Archmaester however was Archmaester Marwyn, commonly called Marwyn the mage.

"Come in, Lord Stark," intoned the archmaester from behind the door.

As soon as I entered I was blinded by the light of 16 bright blue flames of obsidian glass.

Marwyn snapped from his seat and exclaimed,"For 30 Years, I have been the Archmaester of Magic in the citadel and no one could even make one of them light."

As I stood uncomfortably and started contemplating whether to obliviate him or not, he continued, "You just enter my room and every one of them burst to light."

"Indeed," I murmured softly, while inwardly panicking I couldn't use any magic inside the goddamned room for some reason, I could see a vase 3 feet away from me. It would take me 5, maybe 7 seconds to take it and crash it over his head. He was an old man he would probably die from the impact.

As I was just about to reach for the vase, he said, "Come, come Brandon –May I call you Brandon? We have much to discuss. Oh this is extremely exciting," And proceeded to drag me behind a hidden door towards some sort of a library with old books.

"The archmaesters must not know!" He said and I was taken aback by the seriousness in the man's statement and contemplated whether to use the usual Malfoy approach proven to work throughout countless generation of Malfoys which was their unofficial motto as well, 'Deny,Deny,Deny.' In the end I decided to indulge my curious side and asked, "Why shouldn't they exactly..?

"You may have heard of the Citadel's disdain for magic and the Higher Mysteries. However, it is way bigger than that. Every archmaester and most Maesters distrust Magic strongly ever since our rivalry with the Alchemist's Guild. It has turned however to an irrational fear to destroy anything that is magical and turn the world into what fits their vision of right," He said, each world dripping with venom.

"I suspect the dance of the dragons and even the death of the Targeryan Dragons was the machinations of the citadel," he continued, "So you must understand the severity of the situation and the need for secrecy."

"Situation?" I asked amused.

"Why, your knowledge boy! I suspect you're going to teach me a great deal than I'll ever can," He exclaimed.

"You and I both know you're not just a 4 year old. So who are you really?" He said

So in a fit of recklessness, I told him everything. Well almost everything. I, of course, excluded the parts of stealing knowledge and just painted myself as an extremely powerful and talented wizard, a not inaccurate image, who managed to beat death and retain his knowledge and memories while being rebirthed. I also showed him some basic charms and transfiguration which had the man salivating.

"Incredible," He said, eyes wide. "I wish I had the same gift as you," He said wistfully.

"Who says you can't?" I murmured to myself.

His head snapped towards me and he almost looked like Bellatrix on a raid. Ahh, regardless of my second life and peaceful reign, I still missed my noble Death Eaters sometimes. "Perhaps Marwyn can become my new Bella." I thought to myself.

"There is a potion and a spell," I said "Combined you might be able to possess some semblance of magic and could cast some spells successfully."

"There's a catch though," I interrupted him.

"Anything, to be able to use magic is my greatest dream."

"You have to understand that I have to give you a part of my magic, I can't just give you a piece of my magic just like that."

"I will swear a loyalty oath!" He exclaimed.

"I have an even better idea," I said smiling genially, "I'll mark as one of my followers"

His face suddenly closed up and he said,"will I still retain my free will?"

"Of course," I lied smoothly, waving my hand dismissively, "My real reason however was for you to act as an emissary of sorts and the mark is only to allow you to mark and find other recruits with an affinity of magic."

He sat for a long time before nodding and bowing. I interrupted, "Just roll your sleeve and give me your arm."

"Morsmorde." I murmured my finger against his arm.

I watched as a Cobra encircled around a ferocious Direwolf burned on his arm. That was… curious, but not unwelcome.

"Incredible," He said bouncing in his seat. "So when do you start me teaching me the magic you did?"

"No need," I said, establishing eye connection and implanting knowledge of apparating, using the dark mark to communicate and brand other followers, basic charms and necessary wards and some charms with a tiny bit of transfiguration.

His head reared back in shock from the flood of knowledge that invaded his mind and he blinked repeatedly to regain his bearings and whispered, "Magnificent."

As I left him to his playing, mainly appertain around the room and transifiguring quills and parchments and laughing loudly, I hit the room with a silencing ward and proceeded to check the Glass Candles. From what I could find out they were basic scrying instruments. There was some myths of the use of Obsidian Candles back in my world to scry and communicate but they were utterly unreliable and better methods were developed. I quickly went back to my room, leaving my first follower and filled with melancholy over my Death Eaters.

The forging of chains.

I wasted almost another year at the Citadel before deciding that I was most likely going to destroy the blasted building. The archmaesters brought shadowbinders from Asshai, Warlocks from Qarth and used poison slowly over the years at the Dragonpit to make sure the dragons slowly died out. I couldn't however destroy it before the other Northern Citadel, which was definitely going to be renamed, was finished and the books copied. I copied every book the Citadel had periodically and portkeyed them back to the vault at Winterfell.

A meeting of the Conclave occurred during my stay in the Citadel and I got to meet the Grandmaester Pycelle. Suffice to say I wasn't impressed. The man praised my intelligence and wholeheartedly supported the Northern Citadel and it was agreed that we would split the cost 40/60 to be finished as soon as possible. By the time I was done, I had every chain that could possibly be forged in the Citadel. The Conclave of course, begged me repeatedly to stay at the Citadel and assured me that I would most definitely become an Archmaester not a simple maester who served different Lords. Yet, it was futile. I was born to rule, and I wasn't going to be chained by ridiculous vows. I was hounded by young maesters all the time, even gave a few lectures and introduced my theories. Brandon's theory in particular was being documented in books of Geometry and slowly introduced to masons and mathematicians all over the world.

Archmaester Bell- err.. Marwyn however, managed to find 2 acolytes who were suitable candidates and were quickly branded and a part of my followers and would scout Westeros and hopefully Essos in search for other followers.

So with my chains forged, my reputation as a genius whispered in the corridors of the citadel and between Lords, I packed and rode back for the North.


	5. Chapter 5

285 AC, Winterfell.

I returned to Winterfell and was pleasantly surprised that the improvements I had ordered were already implemented and the farmlands expanded. I had to deal with another problem that would quit possibly affect all my plans.

The North was almost half the size of Westeros. Almost 80% of the available lands were abandoned with no population to sustain it. With a a measly 50,000 levies that could be raised in times of war, it wasn't surprising. Most of the population lived in isolated villages that were under no lord. I had to draw young people into the North somehow and figure out how to raise more men than that. My answer to that was a new huge building built right next to Winterfell that would, in the future, be connected to my new Citadel. The Research Facility was built with my new 'invention' concrete, coupled with beams made of Damascus steel that I taught to the smiths. The whole facility was built in no time. A library rivaling the size of the citadel was placed inside. I 'invited' learned people who couldn't forge their chains, bound them using secrecy spells coupled with specific knowledge implanted in their minds and their loyalty was absolute. However, that was all for show. I couldn't very well introduce 50 inventions in a month and pass it off as intelligence. So with my concrete made, research facility finished, a census that was completely inaccurate and proper mapping used by ward stones placed all around the North, We began the North's (read; Lord Brandon's) revolution.

The wards provided us with accurate information and an interactive map of the entirety of the North. Exactly 60,000 - that could potentially be raised to fight our wars. Most of the others were too old or too young or women. While I was in fact the highest authority in the North, I couldn't just introduce outlandish techniques and order them all to implement them with the threat of Winter. So in a fit of intelligence, and the not so subtle reminder of my first follower, I apparated back to Winterfell, charmed the farmlands with ridiculously basic Herbology spells, mainly spells that softened the brittle soil of the North. I sent a raven to uncle Benjen with specific instructions; the smiths were to make steel plows with blueprints I provided, pipes made of clay were to be installed to help draining the fields around Winterfell, the land would be divided into 3 fields; 2 fields were sown with crops using seed drills, also provided in blue prints, while the last one had turnips grown.

By the time I had returned, they had already harvested land and lo and behold, by the new techniques Lord Stark implemented, we had almost 3 times the output compared to the old ways. Farmers were praising me and I began preparing for the harvest feast.

It took almost 2 months for all the Lords to arrive, I used those two months, generally looking for unclaimed cattle all around westeros and slowly trickling it into the North, domesticating them and housing them in proper houses.

The feast was not just any feast; it was also time for the lords to renew their vows of fealty to me.

After taking their oaths of fealty which really was a formality, I asked them to settle down because I had some news to announce.

"Most of you know that I have spent the last year forging chains in the Citadel," I intoned coldly.

"And that is relevant to the harvest feast in what way exactly my lord?" whispered Roose Bolton.

I still have not decided what Bolton's fate was going to be. The Boltons have been rebelling against Stark Lords since the building of the Wall. On the other hand, Roose greatly reminded me of Lucius and could prove to be a valuable asset, a thought for another time.

"By implementing new methods and techniques, we have managed to increase the production rate of Wintertown almost three-fold," I continued "Should each Lord implement those methods to his lands, the North would become entirely self-sufficient and we wouldn't have to rely on those fucken southerners ."

I was met with a lot of skeptic look and elaborated, "Please compare the numbers of what a normal sized farmland equal to those surrounding Wintertown produce and ours this year."

While the lords almost had their eyes boggling out of their sockets one annoying mass of flesh asked, "If the Citadel did know about this yes why wouldn't they tell the other lords?"

I could see others murmuring their ascent as Uncle Benjen interjected, "Who ever said the Citadel made those techniques?"

Greatjon Umber roared, "What, do you expect us to believe you made those, Benjen?"

"No, I did," I interrupted.

"Ha! I did, he says! You're like what, 7-8 name-days boy?"

"One, my name is Lord Stark, Warden of the North and you will address me as such you imbecile," I answered coldly, I had enough of that bullshit, I relished his cowering. "Two, when the Warden of the North orders, his vassals does his bidding, and just because the Umbers can't read or count more than 10 doesn't mean the others vassal are dunderheads as well."

Silence reigned in the Hall, until Greatjon suddenly boomed laughing, "Aye, you're a real wolf, boy."

I wanted to crucio the arrogant muggle for calling me boy again but as the tension diffused I decided against it.

"Most of the methods are easily done including the clay pots my lord, but how would you want us to make those seed drills and steel plows, my lord?" asked Bolton.

I smiled charmingly, "House Stark will provide steel plows and seed drills to its entire vassals lord Bolton. If, and I'm sure it will, provide the aforementioned results, each lord will simply have to pay 20% of the extra yielded harvest for 15 years, excluding winters."

Bolton bowed his head in acceptance and soon murmurs broke out, all the lords chatting excitedly. The North's biggest problem was its brittle lands and low harvest yield which made us buy crops from the Reach and the Riverlands. Should this project prove successful, we could have even enough harvest to sell to other Kingdoms. What they didn't know is that I spent the last month casting fertilizing charms and nutrients all over the North, a ridiculous effort that took up most of my time, but extremely rewarding.

But still, even with the all my improvements, we could perhaps farm 35-40% of the free land in and that's if every smallfolk took up farming.

My breeding facility has also advanced greatly, we managed to domesticate about every animal we captured. We now had 3000 sheep, 2500 goats, a 1000 aurochs and an average of 2000 for other less popular domesticated animals. The problem that they were all located in a 100 m2 barn expanded to accommodate them. Only those who were my direct agents were allowed inside for the breeding, I had to figure out how am I going to transport them without looking like an idiot. So, ridiculously large cowsheds, barns, stables and sheds were built right east of Winterfell, besides the White knife to accommodate our animals, Irrigation Canals were branched out of the fork regulary starting on both branches extending towards winterfell. I had placed notice-me-not charms on the Barn and decided to place illusion so it would seem that the animals were collected all around the North. It was easy to do. But the real transportation had to occur at night.

I had realized by now that it would take several years and a ridiculously large labor force to achieve the amount of canals I needed. While most people would've just gone on with it, I wasn't most people. I placed charms on underground brittle rocks all over the North, warding the area around the focus of the focus so not to cause damage to the surrounding castles of the North. Voila! A chain of strong earthquakes all hitting key points did almost all the work needed for the canals, splitting the earth. A series of canals all over the North seemingly erupted overnight. While I would've loved to take credit for them, we had to pass them off as an "act of the Old Gods". The smallest canal was almost 2 feet deep, while the almost finished Grand Canal, which passed through the Cape of Eagles right infront Moat Cailin – offering another strategically advantage for the North, and connecting Ironman's bay to The Bite, was almost 20 meter deep and 100 meter wide at its center, while noticeably thinner at the entrance and exit of the canal. That is as soon as I dispatch more filthy muggles to finish digging the flimsy part remaining.

Another noticeably happy development was the, unfortunate, destruction of the Twins, their crossing and their entire Argus Filch-like family. I did say I wouldn't damage the castles of the North, and Filch was a sworn enemy of the Noble House of Hufflepuff. Back at Hogwarts, he died before the badgers could exact their revenge. So I had almost a 100 Filch look-alikes and a grudge. I had to order four ferries built in place of the Twins so as to not block traffic, it was only a temporary solution, I still had to improve and fix the Kingsroad. While I would probably lay the whole thing with a combination of dirt, gravel and bricks, I had to limit the width of the road so as to not totally fuck up the military blessing that the swamps provided.

Unfortunately now I had to wait. I truly missed the days were you could build a castle with a few twigs and rocks and transfiguration.

1 Year and a half later, 286 AC, The North

Thankfully by now, we had increased population a bit. I had asked Uncle Ned to send a missive to his friend requesting all the jobless beggars and residents of Kings Landing to the North, coupled with a hundred of my First Generation followers throughout the Riverlands, the Vale and the Westerlands sending long-ranged weak compulsions and inviting people to the North stating that every man has a job to do, offering a home for every family and a stable income. Thousands flooded into the North. Almost 35,000 homeless, jobless Westerosi were welcomed into the North. Employed in farmlands throughout the North owned exclusively by Winterfell, the lords technically had no hold over almost 60% of the free areas of the North so I took over them quickly, or dispatched quickly to gold, silver and iron mines all over the mountains of the North or a select few that worked in the Northern Factory right behind Winterfell.

The Northern Factory was my masterpiece for this pre-emptive world. 6-feet high semi circled divided into four parts just half a kilometer away from winterfell. The first, and largest part, was the steel mill. Conjuring a Bessemer Convertor and parts of an Open hearth furnace in the Temple of Knowledge, formerly Research Facility was a masterstroke. As soon as the building was finished, my workers quickly dispatched them both to the Steel Mill and in no time, we were producing enough steel to arm the entirety of Westeros, Essos and even the fish in the Shivering Sea. We ran into a few problems, mainly the people had no way how to work it, but transplanting the knowledge into 50 apprentices and the Steel Mill was soon working so fast that we had to lay our first rail network and move more people to the mountains to increase iron ore production.

I didn't know if the past northern lords were short-sighted or just plain fools. We had almost as much mountains as the Westerlands. All filled to the brim with Precious metals, gems and lots and lots of Iron. Perhaps they never had the numbers to sustain them. I had to conjure and place mines and make them look like they were abandoned so as to not waste precious time. Homes were built in the mountains to accommodate our new arrivals. We faced a bit resistance from the mountain clans. But giving them homes built quickly by concrete and steel and offering them food for their work bent them quickly enough. In almost 6 months, the mines of the North-West were fully working and pouring ores into my – or rather the North's, coffers. The mountains were mapped and divided into equal regions and awarded to each lord. They were responsible for their maintenance and their levies had to work in them, or for the unable to spare, mine did, for a percentage of the ores. Of course Winterfell got almost as much as all the Lords collectively had. But no one could actually complain, I gave them mines for free. The first steel railroad was placed into place from the mountains towards the large new Northern Trading Company that I built. The railroad, carriages and horses were owned by me. Each lord could pay a toll for us to deliver it to him to as far as Winterfell, and when they saw the speed and the amount of weight the horses could drag on rails; they all paid the special fee for the northern lords.

By the end of 288 AC, Every main trade road in the North would be laid with concrete along with Railways and huge carriages; all owned by the North so that tolls could be delivered even for transportation. Carriages and carts in westeros were primeval and unsuited for the roads, even the fabled Kingsroad. By connecting the entire North by rails, we could send supplies for armies almost anywhere. Transport merchandise to almost anywhere near the North and for the fancy lords whose daughters and wives rode in carriages, arrive as fast as they could in fancy carriages with a built-in bed, privy and servants, without being delayed by the slow carriage.

The second part of my facility was the concrete factory. The high influx of people into the North required us to build 4 floor buildings with 12 apartments in each floor to accommodate, every lord with ordering concrete and steel beams to enforce their castles or in some cases, completely renovate them. They were all near identical and each farmland, mine and harbor had a couple of them. The third part was the textile factory; it included cotton spinning mills powered by water and wind, cotton gins, sewing machines, dyes production and thread production; All of them inside of the factory. We began to provide clothes and breaches made of cotton to almost every small folk in the North. You would be surprised what a decent pay, roof over their heads and proper clothes are worth to most small folk. In time, the North would be the main supplier for clothes in the Seven Kingdoms, clothes in large quantities were hard to come by, and most people wore rags. I had to find a way to have a steady supply of silk to provide even more fancy clothes to the North, I had an idea already but it would have to wait. The small folk and nobles alike were entirely devoted to me. And any man with no job in the six kingdoms soon flooded the North; they were always welcomed and provided with a job.

The fourth and last part of the factory was the brewery. It was a booming success! Vodka production was so high that we had to expand to accommodate. The northerners loved it; a drink that can get you drunk and keep you warm? I felt like this mudblood wizard dude from the middle east- Jesus was his name, who transfigured water into wine and the people revered him as the son of god. Beer was also famous among the commoners. Whiskey, gin, ale, cider and even champagne for the really rich was pouring out of the brewery and soon, the wines of the Reach and Dorne would be largely ignored in favor of my new alcoholic drinks for the rich and the poor. Teaching them how to produce sugar from beet was another great advantage to the north, as sugar canes were hard to plant in the North.

The Factory – which was almost 5 times as big as Winterfell, the Temple of Knowledge and a large part of the farmlands and empty land for future expansion were surrounded by three layers of walls. The first layer and the tallest at almost 60 feet tall and 10 feet thick, was surrounding the castle itself. The second was surrounding the factory and the large newly built storages, I planned that Winterfell could withstand a siege for 50 years if it had to and still produce meat and grain alike. The third wall was surrounding the farmlands. Each wall was encompassing a huge circular section and ascending upwards towards the hill that housed the castle. Guarded by several metal gates and each of them had a retractable wooden bridge for extra protection. The initial moat was buried and we dug 3 larger moats surrounding each wall for extra protection. The castle of Winterfell was almost impregnable. And unless blackpowder and cannons were created without my knowledge –Unlikely with my plans for the Citadel, it would never fall.

I had to delay renovating the Castle as it would require a ridiculously large amount of money and a huge labor force, and my smallfolk were stretched thin all over the north as it was. Our coffers were almost running dry as we didn't heavily engage in trade as of yet but I guaranteed that before 290 AC, the North would be the new power of Westeros.

The most important part of trade was ships. The north had a large amount of lumber, enough to cover the narrow sea in logs. Harbors were built all over the North. I wasn't going to put my faith in Lord Manderly and his flimsy disgrace of a fleet. Harbors were built at Cape Kraken, Cape of the Eagles, Widows's watch, Sea dragon point and the Bay of Seals. All emulating the fabled docks of Braavos. Our first priority was trading ships, each dock was producing 3 huge ship per week all with reinforced hulls, triangular sails, speed and expansion charms, charms to reduce water resistance and all manned with captains with superior knowledge of the seas. I planned to have almost 500 trading ships of the North with a 150 battle ships that were armed with explosive scorpion bolts that could sink a ship 500 half a mile away. The northern ships were all privately owned by me, flying the Wolf Banner and their superiority allowed them to sail to as far as the Jade Sea and travel all around Westeros in almost third the time, evading pirates and delivering goods for all of Westeros. I was going to make the north the trading hub of the World and control the seas.

289 AC

After 4 years of work, the North has changed almost completely. Each castle in the North could sustain its own lavish food throughout the summer, and through a 3 year-long winter if it had smallfolk in the north had a roof over his head, clothes to help them through the winter and never spent a night hungry. Lords had rebuilt their castles, raised towers and reinforced their walls. We distributed to each lord initial seeds modified to endure the harshest of winters and cattle so they could grow them inside their barns and castles.

Roads made of concrete were connecting every Great House, Harbor and Mines in the north; all of them passing directly through Winterfell and the surrounding areas. Each road had a railroad track built alongside them, run by the Northern Railroad Company exclusively for transportation of cargo, goods made by the Factory and from the mines, valuable stones.

Each lord was getting richer than they ever was and had no reason to worry about any sort of winter, if they ran out the food bank in Winterfell could sell them some. Ships were selling our goods all around the world and bringing back exotic food, wine and silk from as far as Yi Ti; all passing through the North as a major trading stop from Essos to Westeros.

I had also sent a rather large gift to Uncle Ned at Moat Cailin. Large amount of concrete enough so that he can rebuild the 20 towers at his castle and fix anything damaged and 5 Ballistas with explosive scorpio bolts. Never let it be said that I wasn't generous. I, however, was worried about that wife of his, Catelyn Fucking Tully. As soon as they arrived back at Moat Cailin, my uncle had built a Sept for her. A fucking Sept, in the north. I was irritated as hell. The Old Gods were nice and everything and while they weren't as worshiped as the New Gods, they still were way less susceptible to corruption.

The Seven-Who-Are-One are the Father, the Mother, the Maiden, the Smith, the Warrior , the Crone and the Stranger. The knowledge that my old friend death was called the stranger was amusing, which reminded me that I should probably check on him soon. You would expect a primordial being to live lavishly and not need anything, but generally being feared by other gods and men alike he had only me for companionship.

Any way the Faith of the Seven was a religion that had arrived with the Andals, they burned the Weirwood trees which filled the South, declared the Old Gods as false and proclaimed all around Westeros that the Seven Gods were the true gods, Introducing along the way The Seven-Pointed Star and other ridiculous teachings. Bastardy was preached against, since bastards were apparently born of sin when it was just finding someone to blame shit at. As they couldn't blame the Noble lords whom promoted their religion they had to blame someone right? Causing a large faction of the country divided against them, and naming the bastards; Snow for the North, Flowers for the Reach, Sand for Dorne, Rivers for the Riverlands, Stone for the Vale, Hill for the Westerlands, Pyke for the Iron Islands and Waters for the bastards of the Crownlands.

Of course, they couldn't conquer the north and we remained the only kingdom of seven that kept the Old Gods. So when my uncle who was married to a pretty southern lady who viewed the North as savages and most likely only heard of the North from her septa, build THE FIRST FUCKING SEPT inside the north for his wife. Suffice to say, none of the lords were happy and I, in particular, was pissed.

I didn't actually care about religion; I could elevate myself to a God amongst people if I wanted to with my magic. Although I could feel a magical essence inside some of the weirwood trees, I was inclined to believe that the Old Gods were more real than the Seven. But the main problem with them is that a sept was a disaster waiting to blow up in my face. The High Septon, The Most Devout, septons and septas are around the world had a huge amount of political ammunition. They were the voice and the connection to the gods and before the Targaryeans, the Faith Militants were an absolute nightmare. It was too restricting and annoying; too many sins and rules and people to be revered. The Old Gods were much simpler. You want a connection with the gods? Here, have some cool looking trees. What do you have to do? Why would a god want anything from you, you stupid fuck? Just belief is enough. Only slavery was forbidden and that was it. So, I couldn't, in good faith allow a Sept inside the north. It was going down. But since I didn't particularly want the attention of the High Septon at the moment, I again had to pass my actions as an act of god. It would all happen when I would visit Uncle Ned again.

As for Uncle Benjen, I planned to assign him to an expedition and trading fleet to buy grains and seeds from all over the world to plant fruits and flowers in our new greenhouses and sell them all around Westeros, and hopefully to get him away from Winterfell and more importantly, do something productive instead of sitting here. I even caught a stray thought while he was passing by that he was considering taking the Black. I couldn't obviously let my first real family like that; I almost felt love- more like a certain fondness towards all of the Starks. He was rotting away in Winterfell. There were no new whores in the North, he must have fucked all of them, and I must have cast charms to prevent him from catching STDs almost every day. So I told him that he could fill 5 ships full of pleasure-slaves from all around Essos –freed the moment they touch the North and if he would like, he could be the manager of several exotic whore houses all over the North. I felt that he could almost die happily now and then from that ridiculous grin that was on his face. He should hopefully be back in less than 2 years. Superior speed and charms aside, he was going to have to roam the cities of Essos and find anything of value.

"But nephew, wouldn't it be more prudent to buy shipwrights, masons and builders instead of 5 ships full of whores?" He asked hesitantly. I could see that it pained him on the inside to say that, and while he would most assuredly wanted to buy all these whores, he still felt it was his duty as an uncle to advise his '9 year old' nephew.

"No need uncle, just make sure you come in one piece." I replied. The knowledge I had transplanted into the muggles who have become the Masters in each of their different occupation was much more efficient than bringing slaves and having to teach them to build using concrete and steel instead of rocks. The apprentices seemed to learn fast enough, and more free work here meant more levies from the Six Kingdoms that I would have and they won't.

"Okay then." He grinned, and in a grey Stark blur he was across my solar and outside presumably in his room, to pack for his voyage across the Known world.

Finally! No more nagging and constant watching over his 'precious nephew'. I knew the man felt guilty for what has befallen his family but this was ridiculous. Now I could move a little bit more freely.

I started walking toward the Northern Citadel or as it is now called. Archmaesters and maesters in-training alike were allowed free boarding aboard any Northern ship that landed at Oldtown harbor and afforded as mush space as they needed to transport books and alike. Archmaester Marwyn has already moved inside permenantly much to the chagrin of the other Archmaesters whom usually came here twice or thrice every year. They have benefitted immensely from the printing machine and as such, every book the Citadel had in addition to books from all over Essos and as old as the Wall was available in what was now the largest Library in Westeros and probably the world.

I did want to destroy the citadel but I was waiting for an opportunity to present itself. After the chain of earthquakes that occurred in the North it wouldn't be truly surprising that one would happen at the Reach but still, perhaps a better opportunity would occur.

Archmaester Marwyn and my followers whom still remain nameless usually convened in a Fidelius-hidden Building right next to the Temple. So far their numbers were only 100 as it was hard to find someone with the right mental and physical capability to endure a magical core within him without exploding into bits and pieces. Their jobs were mainly maintaining the mines and pulling out the minerals and valuable rocks closer to the surface – a taxing effort which requires them going almost every day, and re-applying charms all over the fields of the North. I will probably use them in guerilla warfare and generally easing up war for me and the North but since we were living in relative peace. They could focus on their day-to-day work.

I was going to check on their progress and assign new duties.

"Greetings my lord," Marwyn said.

"Archmaester," I nodded "and… colleagues"

"We call ourselves the Winter Mages my lord," said one of the acolytes.

"How creative," I said dryly "Are all the acolytes here?"

"Most of them are, my lord. Almost 5 are still at Essos, scouting. We have been able to locate a hidden fortress in Slaver's bay outside of Astapor. It seems the fortress was hidden by the same wards that our own building is using and others we haven't identified yet."

"Keep me updated on any findings and if they face a dead end with the wards, I shall go and personally do them," I said absentmindly while thoughts whirled all over my head and contingency plans for dragon attacks being arranged.

That was surprising. I would most likely be able to unravel most of those wards but it was a long trip from here across the Narrow Sea all the way to Slaver's Bay. It would have to wait. But the confirmation that Valyrians did indeed use magic similar to ours was worrying. Oh, I knew they had magic. How else would you control a Dragon that, according to rumors could fit a carriage inside its mouth. Dragons back on Earth were much much much smaller than that. While I truly was the greatest wizard of all humanity, I couldn't actually ride a dragon and control it. Damage it? Sure. Kill it? With a spell or two. But to ride it and force it to obey your commands like the stories of the dragonlords of Valyria? That was impossible. Dragons were sentient beings of magic in fact. While I could communicate with them, a parselmouth can't order them around and even if it lived its entire life from birth to death inside captivity it couldn't be tamed. While I could use my will to bend other creatures to do my bidding, most of these blasted reptiles were pure untainted magic that cannot be overcame be sheer will. The magic would overwhelm anyone or backfire rather tremendously. I was dying to know how they did it, but it could wait. All of the dragons were dead for a century anyway and the last remaining Targaryeans were reportedly begging all around Essos for food and a roof above their head in exchange for 'generous gifts as soon as they take back the Iron Throne'.

"How goes the temple?"

"Very well indeed, all the Archmaesters have been here and expressed their desire to relocate but are bound by house Hightower influence over the Citadel." It might have something to do with the fact that the Citadel was built on their lands. "But most maesters have already travelled here and we're accommodating 3 times the number of acolytes that are at the citadel."

"Good, Keep me informed," I said, turning away back towards Winterfell to look over the last reports of harvest of the North and trade.

"If I may my lord," he asked hesitantly "A man named Qyburn has arrived."

"So, you need me to hold his hand through the gate?" I asked irritably.

"No-no my lord, it is just… Qyburn was initially studying at the Citadel but was stripped of his chain by the Archmaesters for engaging in some unethical human experimentation…"

I raised my eyebrow waiting for him to elaborate.

"He had been vivisecting men in his pursuit of medical knowledge, he is of the belief that the death of a few men is justifiable if it would lead to the saving of many more. He is also one of the foremost leaders in the field of medicine and a talented healer." He finished swallowing.

That sounded interesting.

"Where is he?"

"I'll show him to you right away, my lord."

He looked like an unremarkable man. Short, with black hair, wearing the same cloak that the maesters wore except his was black instead of grey. But his eyes held the same curiosity and thirst for knowledge he had himself when he was younger.

"Lord Stark," he greeted

"Maester Qyburn,"

"It's ex-maester, actually."

"No, it's maester now. You will retain your chain and are allowed to share your medical knowledge with the rest of our acolytes, while I doubt you could ever be assigned to a castle, perhaps you may stay here as a teacher and researcher and rise to Archmaester in time?" I delivered the whole speech without a pause and with every word I said the man's eyes kept bulging until they almost fell out.

"I...-I Thank you, my Lord. A most generous offer. May I ask why are you're offering this to me. You're aware of the reason I was expelled out of the Citadel correct?" He asked, almost not believing what the young lord, and prodigy, in front of him said.

"Indeed I do, while I most certainly don't approve on experimenting on live subjects we may be able to provide some concession under certain…. circumstances." I said with my signature creepy grin. It looked slightly out of place on my 9-year old face but it got him intrigued.

"What circumstances exactly?" He asked skeptically.

"Follow me."

I led him inside into my solar along with our accompanying maesters or rather Winter Mages as they call themselves and sat down.

"Now I am aware that experimenting on live sick subjects may provide more information about the disease and how to battle it. However, we have a way to allow you to experiment on live subjects and not harm them at the same time." I said taking a seat down at my chair and motioning him to do the same. "What do you know of magic, Qyburn?"

"I'm afraid I'm a man of medicine, my lord. I haven't particularly taken interest in the Higher Mysteries." He said, not really understanding where this was all going.

"Well we are all capable of using magic," I waved to my companions. "Therefore, we might be able to put the body on stasis as you experiment, and heal the subjects completely after you're done."

"Magic..?" He said incredulously.

I hated that question. I transfigured him into a monkey, fish, and snake and back to human so that he can get to work, and I stop feeling like Dumbledore on the annual muggle-born students introducing meeting to the magical community.

"Incredible," He murmured.

"Yes. Yes. If you have any questions, you can ask them to Archmaester Marwyn and don't do any experiments without one of our mages beside you." I said, looking back to the stack of letters and reports from the lords, farms, mines, harbors and factories all around the North that seemed to grow in size every time I looked away.

"Of course, thank you for this wonderful opportunity, my lord. I swear you will not regret this."

"I'm sure I won't. Make sure to teach the maesters and acolytes alike all your findings and focus on developing surgery and potions for healing instead of wasting away experimenting."

He bowed his head and I hit him in the back with a secrecy spell as he scurried out of my solar.

I looked painfully at the stack of ever-growing layers of parchment and sighed, "I really need a secretary."

Author Note; Longest chapter yet, 6k words. Although I initially wanted to pace the 5 last years along many chapters, I'm not that good in writing and was afraid that I would let most of the ideas go and fuck it up. So apologies if this seemed rushed. I'm always open for questions. This chapter may sound unrealistic as the changes and inventions were implemented almost immediately, please bear in mind that this fanfiction alongside with the subtle magic element of Harry Potter!

NEXT Chapter would be about impressions from the other Kingdoms on Brandon and the North's rise to the power, please tell me which lords or characters you would like to see as well as adding any ideas.

To the ones who reviewed that I should allow wildings from beyond the Wall to the North, Stannis offered them the same thing in exchange for bending the knee. They refused. I don't imagine an ex-dark lord would accept that disrespect and allow them lands and while an imperius would work, I'm going to close that door in the next 2-3 chapters. So expect a Beyond the Wall Chapter soon.

Lord of the Grey


	6. Chapter 6

The Westerlands, Casterly Rock, Tywin Lannister.

Tywin Lannister stood in his solar staring out to Lannisport and the surrounding town deep in thought. He was tall and slender, with greying blonde hair and green golden-flecked eyes. He wore his signature black leather clothes, commanding a very powerful presence intimidating those around him.

Tywin Lannister was confused.

He was the Lord of Casterly Rock, Shield of Lannisport and Warden of the West. He was the most powerful person in the Seven Kingdoms, ruling them in all but name in his time as Hand of the King. Oh he knew he was ruthless and a bit controlling, but he was also calculating, intelligent, politically astute and cold. He wasn't always like that. In fact, he was used to smiling and twitching his lips upwards from time to time when he was with his lovely Joanna. But that all ended with the birth of the foul loathsome imp that took her… a story for another day perhaps. He had watched his mighty house nearly brought to ruin through his father's actions.

"Tytos Lannister" He sneered just from the thought. His father while a gentle and amiable man was also weak willed and eager to please, loans went unpaid and his bannermen did what they pleased mocking him in their cups or openly defying him. People thought all he did were out of cruelty, they were wrong. He was determined to become a different man than his father and restore his house into greatness. The destruction of House Reyne and Tarbeck was only means to re-establishing his House's fearsome reputation.

They were the richest house in the Seven Kingdoms, and the Westerlands Mountains were filled to the brim with gold. Their wealth only contested by that of the Tyrells. But therein lays the problem. 8000 bloody years of mining gold was enough to make a mountain made solely of gold go empty. While the mines in Casterly Rock weren't empty yet, they were certainly getting there. Fearsome reputation or not he couldn't just seize mines of his bannermen and tell them to go fuck themselves. They would all rebel and end his legacy. It wasn't really an unsolvable problem, mines had to be built and gold areas had to be searched for on the rock but that took money and time. Time he didn't have. He wasn't as young as he was, he could feel his wounds aching at the night though never showing his discomfort in front of his enemies lest they get any ideas. He knew his time was soon, but he couldn't… nay wouldn't leave his house on a shaky rock. He had to leave a base that would ensure that House Lannister remains on top even if another Tytos emerges from his descendants.

So when suddenly gold starts flowing down from the North, rumors of mountains in the north filled with gold to the brim, miners starting to travel to the north for better lives and good conditions he had every damn right to be worried.

He always wondered why the north never once produced gold or iron ores; their mountains were almost the size of the Westerlands! 8000 years, not a single ore. He had assumed that they must be empty, lumbs of rock. So when that upstart Stark starts opening mines as much as the ones in the West almost flooding the North with gold, silver and diamonds. Dividing the mountains and mines and gifting them to his bannerman? Madness! He could've just taken them all and no one would complain, they were out of all their territories. Not only dividing them, but also assisting them in building the mines, providing equipment for a measly percentage of the mines production. That was absurd. Nobody in the westerlands would ever contemplate doing something like that. And SUDDENLY, the poor Houses of the North had coffers filled with gold. He even heard they were self-sufficient in their production and had vast farmlands and even produced excess food in WINTER when formerly, the North would thank their old gods for having enough food through summer. But that didn't matter; the Tyrells and their pretty flowers could worry about that.

Oh he heard of the new Stark Lord. A once in a millennia genius they said. But even a genius couldn't shift the powers of the Great Houses and Kingdoms so much in just under a decade.

Nothing to do unfortunately, no army could even dare think about going to the North. The northern savages would all crush them before they passed through the Neck, and with the Twins destroyed in that freak chain of earthquakes that happened in the North it was even more unlikely for them to reach the North. What was he going to do? Have them swim to the north.

He shook his head briefly dismissing those thought, perhaps he should send Tyrion to the Citadel if that's the kind of intelligence they produce. Bah, he would complain of the lack of whores in the Citadel and embarrass himself and the Lannisters by extension. No, he would stay at the Rock where he could keep an eye on him and limit his perversions and whoring as much as he could.

He stared at the sealed golden wax on the letter that just arrived by raven from Kingslanding. "No doubt Robert wants another loan for drinks and whores," he thought disdainfully. All he could do now was increase his influence in court and hope that his grandson knew that he was a Lannister first and a Baratheon second when he ascended to the throne. All he could was waiting.

The Reach, Highgarden, Mace Tyrell.

The Reach was the most fertile and populous region of Westeros, allowing House Tyrell to gain immense wealth (through taxation of the large population) and also to muster an enormous army of 100,000 men. The Tyrells can typically raise and equip almost twice as many soldiers as any of the other Great Houses in Westeros.

Mace Tyrell was a simple man. He had three strong boys, Willas, Loras and Garlan, all as handsome as he is and his little queen Margaery, she had that grace and lithe of all the Tyrells. His wife Alerie was a beautiful young woman from house Hightower. "He knew some people thought his mother was the ruler of the Reach, but oh how wrong they were." He thought puffing up, "He was the true power in the Reach, the Lord of Highgarden ruling from atop with a steel grip, the only undefeated man in the Rebellion."

"And what do you intend to do about this Mace?" said his mother, interrupting his musing.

"About what exactly mother?" He said.

"About what, he says. Of course you have no idea you oaf. All the Northern houses have stopped paying us for food and the North has always bought a lot of food from us, almost as much as Dorne and the Stormlands combined."

"So? Winter has passed; perhaps they have enough food this year."

"Oh by the seven, married to an oaf who managed to fall off a cliff while riding and gave birth to another." She swatted him over the head surprisingly strong, "The north never has enough food you stupid lump."

Mace hummed noncommittally waiting for her to get over with it.

"You still have no idea where I'm getting to, are you?" She said tiredly, "Don't answer that. It means, they either have another cheaper better supplier, or they are making enough food. Both are worrying thoughts."

"The Northern lands are brittle mother and who are they going to get food from? The Riverlands don't produce enough food to solely provide the North and getting food from the Free Cities would cost much more than getting it from us." Mace remarked, greatly impressed with himself for such an intelligent comeback. "The Reach has the most fertile lands and they will come back to us, beggar cups in hand, sooner or later."

"We will have to see but mark my words Mace, the North is on the rise."

"They are the weakest Kingdom of the seven, mother." He said, getting up.

"Sit down you oaf. Haven't you heard of the boy lord Stark? He was at Oldtown a few years ago and world from the Citadel is he is a prodigy, forged all his chains in a record time and went back to the dreary cold North with the respect and admiration of the Archmaesters. Rumors of another Citadel being built in the North have reached my ears."

"Rumors are just that mother, rumors." He said frowning.

"He was five name-days you dunderhead and those were no rumors!" She said throwing a spoon at his temple and sniffing, "Five name-days and forging chains at the Citadel while all your sons know is how to swing swords and could barely count the petals on a flower."

"Yes, Loras is showing a natural talent with a sword isn't he? Almost as good as I was when I was younger," He said chuckling, "Almost, but not as good."

Olenna stared at him incredulously for a moment before shaking her head and getting up, muttering words that sounded suspiciously like oaf, fat lump and other various obscenities that no lady at her age should say.

He watched his little Margaery playing the gardens infront of the balcony. "She would soon grow up to be as beautiful as the Queen of Westeros" He thought, "Perhaps we should arrange a marriage between Margaery and the Crown Prince Joffrey in the future. Could you imagine that grand picture? The next generation of Tyrell's on the Iron Throne? House Tyrell's power in the Seven Kingdoms would grow in leaps and bounds and his mother could cease all her whining of the North"

Dorne, Sunspear, Doran Martell.

Dorne is the hottest region of Westeros. The region is rocky, mountainous, arid and dry, and features the only desert on the continent. Dorne is bordered by the Sea of Dorne to the north, the islands known as the Stepstones to the east, and the Summer Sea to the south. Stretched between them is the mountain range known as the Red Mountains, which separates Dorne from the stormlands to the north and the Reach to the northwest and west.

The Dornishmen lived a hard life, almost as hard like those at the North. While Dorne's rivers provide some fertile lands and even during a long summer there is enough rain and other supplies of water to keep Dorne habitable. Inland water is almost as valuable as gold, and wells are jealously guarded.

Although the least populated region in Westeros as well as the most hot-blooded, it has been avoided just like the North from invasions and wars. When the Andals came to Westeros with their Faith they mostly avoided Dorne, only making adventures toward it. The only notable thing that happened in the past thousand years was the Rhoynish migration. The Rhoynish Wars forced the people of the Rhoynarto flee their homeland along the Rhoyne in Essos. Led by their legendary warrior-queen, Nymeria, they left in a fleet of ten thousand ships, eventually making landfall at the mouth of the Greenblood in Dorne. Nymeria allied with Lord Mors Martell of the Sandship, and with his support conquered the entire peninsula in Nymeria's War, uniting it with House Nymeros Martell of Sunspear as its ruler.

Even Aegon the Conquerer with his Dragons couldn't conquer Dorne as he did with the other realms. One of Aegon's sisters, Rhaenys Targaryen, flew on her dragon, Meraxes, above the Dornishmen guarding the Prince's Pass, but each Dornish castle she visited was abandoned. When she came to Sunspear, she was met by Princess Meria Martell, who warned that the Targaryens would face peril if they attacked Dorne.

In 4 AC, however, Aegon I announced another campaign, which became the First Dornish War. Whereas other kings and lords had taken to the field against Aegon, or clustered in castles, the Dornish refused to give open battle and allow Aegon to deploy his dragons. Instead, they turned to ambush and raids, striking quickly and then slipping back into the desert or through the mountain passes, where even the dragons could not find them.

Aegon's younger sister-wife, Queen Rhaenys, participated in this war, which eventually lead to her death. Meraxes was also killed, being hit in the eye by a scorpion at the Hellholt. In time, Aegon pulled away from Dorne.

Although eventually partially subdued and joined to the Seven Kingdoms by peace not war, 150 years after the Targaryean Conquest.

The great people of Dorne had a great and proud history, and the ruling House Martell was now led by Doran Martell.

Some people, his brother Oberyn for example, thought he should rise in rebellion once again in answer for the injustice and murder of his sister Elia and her children. It was a good thing then that Dorne was not ruled by these people.

Dorne has gained from peace a lot and although they could definitely rise and announce sovereignty, they had a lot to lose. The union of the Seven Kingdoms wasn't done in fear of dragons nor for benefits, the Dornish have lived in these deserts for thousands of years and they were unconquerable in their deserts and mountains. But should they split from the Seven Kingdoms, Dorne would fall. The Reach would stop selling food to them and they had no other way to get it. Their trading was pitiful and the only thing they had in their harbor was ships from the Free Cities which also diminished in number after the earthquake in the North and the Canal they built linking the Narrow Sea to the Sunset Sea and cutting down time travel for Braavos and Pentos almost by half. In the past, they had to travel all around Westeros and stop in Dorne for supplies. Now all they had to was just cut right through Westeros.

While Dorne was the farthest from the North, they had also heard the rumors about the rise of their northern brethren. Doran hated a lot of people, Tywin Lannister, Gregor Clegane, Amory Lorch and Robert Baratheon for the murder of his sister and her children and the subsequent injustice against her murderers.

People might have thought that he hated Eddard Stark as well, but he couldn't in good faith hate him. He was an honorable good man from what he heard. The only man that protested his sister's death and injustice from what he has heard. If his sister Elia was kidnapped he would've travelled the entire World to take her back so he didn't blame him. While didn't hate the Starks and the North, he didn't love them either. And Ned Stark was of no consequence anyway, the new lord Stark was.

Brandon Stark.

He was named after his father or his famous ancestor Bran the Builder, born in Dorne from a secret marriage between his father and Ashara Dayne. His sudden emergence was slightly suspicious and many thought that Ned Stark would claim him a bastard as to take Winterfell for himself. But once again Ned Stark proves his owner in removing his titles almost immediately and taking the boy back to his home as the new Lord of Winterfell.

Gone to the Citadel at the age of 5 and forged every chain there within the year, a genius. Bran the Builder reborn they called him. The Rise of the North and their houses was swift and sudden with his inventions that seemingly popped out every day. But if rumors of his intelligence were true it wasn't surprising.

Northeners rarely married Dornish for the simple reason that it was too far away. The North was on one side and Dorne was at the other side of westeros. But here we have a great lord born from the two corners of the continent and revered as great as the Winter Kings of old.

The whispers from the North said that every commoner there had a better life than anywhere in the Seven Kingdoms. Their health and welfare was almost as good as nobles and each House in the North had a hospice that treated commoners for free. Medical advances and inventions were bred every day in the North. The north this, the north that. It seems that every lord in the seven kingdoms was interested in a marriage with this young Lord. All of them were rebuffed. It wasn't that surprising actually. After the disaster that was Lyanna Stark's arranged marriage and Ned Stark being forced to marry a Riverrlander that wasn't particularly loved in the north, coupled with Northeners generally shying away from marrying down south, it was unlikely that he would accept any.

But perhaps he could see whose side that lord was. An alliance with Dorne would be beneficial and even though the boy was from the North he still had hot dornish blood flowing through his veins. It would have to be approached carefully. Perhaps sending an invitation to Dorne from his mother's house and asking for him to visit Sunspear for improving relationships between the two kingdoms.

He would first have to ask Oberyn for anything he heard from his old friends and the Citadel and if it's acceptable, arrange a marriage between Arianne and him. He could wait; he has been waiting for 9 years for his sister's justice and would wait a hundred more if he had to. Patience was always rewarded.

King's landing, The Red Keep, Robert Baratheon's POV.

"Holy shit, that whiskey is strong," thought Robert Baratheon, First of His Name, King of the Andals and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, and Protector of the Realm and professional drunk and whoremonger as he took another gulp from the bottle.

It was a good thing those bloody dragons were dead. He still had dreams of killing Rhaegar and the pleasure from caving in his breastplate. But the thought that was running through his head was different from regular. As soon as the blasted dragons left the north changed remarkably, pouring gold from the taxes as much as two kingdoms from trade, mining and farming. We could send beggars and commoners who did nothing but increase the smell of shit in King's landing north and they would have jobs instead of sitting here on their asses.

He was glad for his friend Ned, living the peaceful life he wanted and handing the North to his nephew who perfected the art of brewing, making drinks from all colors and varying levels of drunkenness. The boy forged his chains at the citadel at 5 the Grandmaester said and yet, that old fool could do nothing of the wonders that young boy made. Jon was particularly interested in that new lord and was considering inviting him to court and perhaps offer him a position on the small council in the future.

No more wines of different kinds for when he wanted to lose himself. Now he could have a different drink for every different occasion without having to drink flagons of wine to get tipsy.

Perhaps he should visit the north soon, he thought as he looked down at his body in disgust. He has grown fat and lazy from sitting around all day doing nothing. Ruling the Seven Kingdoms was Jon's thing really. He still had no idea why he had gone along with being the King of the Seven Kingdoms in the first place. Yes it was another victory over the damned Targaryens but it wasn't for him. Jon cajoled him into the position quickly before he could utter a word as the best suited one. He needed a war to get him moving but for now, he was going to enjoy his drinks

The only downside of the whole thing that he had to specify what he wanted to drink these days to dumb Lancel Lannister. No more could he just shout bring me something to drink. Now he had to specify which. He supposed even a king couldn't have it all.

King's Landing, The Hand Tower, Jon Arryn.

The north has been one of the recurring themes mentioned in the past small council meetings for the past 5 years. The north has remained in a state of stagnation for almost 300 years. While the prospect of building that much harbors, mines and buildings was worrying it wasn't surprising. Brandon Stark was a smart young lord and with the newfound wealth in the mountains, he was adamant that the North rises like never before. Bran the builder they called him.

Never before has a boy under 14 name days allowed entry to study at the Citadel, yet the Grandmaester spoke almost reverently and excitedly about his meeting with lord Stark. In which he described as a charming young man with wisdom and intelligence that men 10 times his age didn't have. His farming methods and the influx of castle forged steel in the North was having a huge effect as well. He could very well be able to arm and field an army of 150,000 with that much steel and food.

Ned he could trust, he raised the boy himself and was sure the boy wasn't going to turn his eyes south. But that new lord was ambitious, and why shouldn't he? He has done in the past 5 years more than any lord of the north did in a thousand years. He just hoped that he was like Ned and it was doubtful that he would rebel or attack any southern kingdom in the near future. The north had now everything it needs; a friendship with the crown through Ned and farms feeding every mouth in the North mines filling their coffers with gold and harbors pouring trade from all around the world.

The new large fleet was worrying but from what he heard, most of them were trading ships anyway and only 150 –half the size of the royal fleet- was military., mostly used to maintain the seas and fend off pirates which has benefited the Vale greatly as they cover and protect Gulltown harbor and the bite as well which were infected with pirates.

For now, he would continue observing the North and perhaps arrange to foster the boy in King's landing or invite him to court for a while to get a read on him. Maybe even send the boy to deal with the mountain clans of the Vale like he did with their mountain clans. How he subdued the mountain clans in one meeting I would never know.

Still, he had his trust that Ned would keep any unsavory or overly ambitious plans of the boy at bay at least for the next few years, by then the boy would hopefully look at him as a grandfather-figure and trusts him. He would write a letter to Ned again to keep him informed and ask Varys to keep his eyes on any developments in the North.

"The king orders a tourney," said Lord Baelish, Lysa's childhood friend and a bannerman of his.

"The last one was on Prince Joffrey's nameday." Jon said tiredly.

"The King's orders my lord hand." Baelish said with a mocking smile.

He wished he could focus on the North but he first had to keep Robert's urges at bay. Although the taxes from the north had increased, Robert almost spent the entirety of it buying barrels of the new drinks. He would have a talk with him and write that letter later. For now he would have to arrange the tourn… 50,000 golden dragons for the winner of the joust? Some lords didn't have as much as that. Seven hells Robert, are you trying to ruin the Kingdoms on purpose?

Jon sighed tiredly, they used to say the King orders and the Hand builds in the past. Now it became the King shits and the hand wipes. I did a terrible job raising that boy.

Riverrun, the Riverlands, Hoster Tully's POV.

People who knew The Lord of Riverrun would have been gaping at the sight of Hoster Tully at the moment except his brother, Brynden would have laughed mockingly. He looked haggard and gaunt, his hair messy and generally looked worse to wear.

The past few years were a disaster for the Riverlands, raids from the Ironborn which have increased the past few weeks, the destruction of the Freys one of his most powerful –although despicable- vassals, even money that came from the North for food stopped coming. Even his poor Edmure managed to fall into a river and drowned after being harassed by the fish, they say he was drunk and tried to kiss the reflection of the moon. Oh the horror.

The Mallisters were starting to collect supporters to become the new Lord Paramount of the Riverrlands after my death. But I wasn't going to let the Riverrlands fall in shambles and out of our House's hand. I still had an heir who could hopefully grow up nicely. Cat's second son, Bran was his name. Not that infernal Brandon, Warden of the North. No a Bran from his blood, perhaps that name was a lucky name and the boy would help pull the Riverrlands from its decay, Ignoring of course, Brandon Stark's death at King's Landing.

Yes, yes he would send a letter to Catelyn and order her to send her son for fostering here immediately. He wouldn't have an heir who hasn't lived a day in the Riverrlands and his bannerman would definetly not accept him as well. He would groom him to an acceptable Lord of Riverrun who could take over one day, not at all like Brynden.

What the Lord of Riverrun didn't know was that there was a certain retired dark lord who had a grudge against Hoster and wasn't going to leave his southern border in the hands of a fish.

Beyond the Wall.

Meeting between Brandon Stark and the Three-eyed Raven.

"He's waiting for you," intoned a creature from behind a root of the weirwood tree.

I took a closer look and gasped in astonishment, "You're house elf!"

"What?" The house elf said confusedly.

I ignored it and continued, "You have no idea how much I missed your species and come to greatly appreciate them since I came into this wretched place" I said as it puffed up in pride," My servants are absolutely horrible and slow, so slow. If I knew that the weirwood tree that kept popping up in my dreams would give me reliable servants I would've come here immediately..."

"We're not servants." It shrieked irritably cutting of my moaning.

I blinked confusedly," You're not wood elves then?"

"The First Men called us 'the Children', but we were born long before them. Your kind arrived in our home, cutting down our forests and fighting us in wars unt.."

I cut the child off, it looked as if it was capable of droning on and on about history just like Binns did back at Hogwarts and said, "I don't particularly care. If you haven't been sending me dreams of house elves then what did you want?"

A voice came from the inside, "They weren't the ones sending you these dreams, I was."

I entered inside the tree to find a pale, skeletal man in rotted black clothing in a weirwood throne of tangled roots. His skin is white, aside from a red blotch on his neck and cheek. He has fine, white hair long enough to reach the earthen floor. He is missing one eye, while the other is red. Weirwood roots surround the man and grow through his body, including his leg and his empty eye socket. That must be uncomfortable.

"I have been expecting you Lord Stark, or is it Tom Riddle or Harry Potter?"

I made my fingers spark with fire and lightning theatrically, changed me eyes red and growled, "Start speaking or I'll burn this tree to the ground, old man."

The man's…tree's? Eyes widened, he had seen what that man had done in his life and he hasn't felt pain in almost 50 years, okay straight forward it is.

"Apologies, My name is Brynden Rivers, Former Hand of the King, Lord Blood Raven and Lord Commander of the Night's Watch and the Last Greenseer." He said hastily, losing the theatrical deep voice and speaking normally.

"And the reason for sending my ridiculous dreams of where you live is…?"

"You've changed the game." He replied plainly and accusingly.

"Pardon me?" I asked confusedly

"You've changed everything! People who should die will live although some cannot be saved. The future is unclear and I can't bloody watch you." He finished in an irritated voice.

Back on Earth, I always applied an anti-scrying charm on myself to prevent anyone from finding me. The habit seemed to carry on here and well, here you go.

"And that concerns me… how exactly?"

"Well, the least you could do was help."

"Help you with what?"

"The white walkers would bring back the Long Night and with it destruction for your kind," another of the children said.

"They are real… hmm well can you tell me about them?" I asked intrigued. I had, of course, been concerned by the existence of necromancy ice elemental zombies right next to me but I haven't been able to find them or any proof that they were real.

The children look to each other and nodded and a brave one stepped forward and explained, "They appeared before the age of heroes, causing the longest winter in history which lasted a whole generation descending upon Westeros from the Far North, killing all in their path and reanimating the dead as wights to fight in their armies. Eventually, your kind rallied against them and, in a conflict known as the War for the Dawn, defeated the White Walkers and drove them back into the frozen North. They are taller than humans and have long wispy white hair and also commonly a white beard with haunting blue eyes with superstrength and an inhuman beauty. They have pale grey-white skin which is wrinkly but stretched taut across their frames, giving them a somewhat gaunt, sinewy, and mummified appearance despite their overall bulky size. They bring blizzards and death wherever they go having magical powers to control the ice and cold."

"That's all grand and all but magical creatures don't simply pop out in overnight." I interrupted his boring description, "How did they come into existence?"

"We created them," It said, not meeting my gaze.

"And what do you need?" I asked seeing where this was going and enjoying it greatly.

"You're more knowledgeable in magic than any of us, you're the only one who could help to their annihilation" The three-eyed raven said strongly.

I began pacing around the inside of the tree while thinking furiously. What they described was the same as creating inferi mostly, except the part where they could use magic. That was worrying. I could only re-animate dead bodies into moving or attacking my enemies, making them use magic however would require me to share. my. own.

I looked at them with amusement and said, "For a creation of magic to die, the creator must cease to exist."

They looked outraged and almost lashed out in anger before Bloodraven asked, "Please elaborate Lord Stark."

"Of course," I said, changing into my professor tone that I used back at Hogwarts, "In normal states of necromantic constructs, the will of the creator is enough to control the construct and its destruction is easy as well. A sentient being that could use magic however cannot be achieved without opening a gateway between the creator and the construct. Therefore, I would highly recommend that it shouldn't be used since their destruction in case of them rebelling against the wizard would prove fatal to both sides."

"So we would have to die regardless," said one of the children sadly.

I nodded my head as I continued, "Your deaths alone won't be enough. A ritual must be done so that the connection could be broken which would cause both sides to fall down and die from the magic."

"Very well then, it was our fault in the first place and we will fix it."

I prepared the ritual in no time carving runes and painting others with my blood in a circle inside the cave. In 10 minutes of chanting it was done. Although I had an important enemy who could have possibly been a nuisance in the future destroyed. They were still both magical species, and I was always concerned of the survival and magic and magical creatures.

As I started walking out of the cave so I can apparate back to Winterfell, Brynden screamed in a panicked tone, "What about me?"

I turned around and smiled apologetically as he deflated in comfort and said, "I apologize, I forgot." I raised my wand pointing it at him, "Avada Kedav.."

"NO!" He interrupted in a shrilly tone.

I frowned lowering my wand, "What do you want then?"

"Free me and heal me of course." He said in an indignant tone.

"Why would I do that?" I asked crossing my arms over my chest and looking on amusedly.

"What?" he asked confused.

"What would I possibly earn from doing that?"

"I helped you destroy you the White Walkers." He said sweating.

"No, I destroyed the White Walkers. Even without your dreams a bit of fiendfyre would've probably taken care of most of them. Since you can't find something beneficial to me…" I said while turning around to leave.

"Wait-WAIT, I could help you. I'm a greenseer, a thousand eyes and one. I could help you see all over Westeros with my warging."

"I could do better with my wards," I said yawning and covering my mouth.

"I could teach anyone you want with the talent, to warg and greenseer like me. Can you imagine that? It could be your Hogwarts in Westeros." He said while smiling hopefully.

"I'm not going to teach uncontrollable people magic and I'd definitely not hire you in my school if I made one." I replied not impressed, almost reaching the cave entrance.

"I could make a mean treacle tart." He said panicked, stopping in my tracks.

"Treacle tarts?" I asked without turning around, I had an obsession with treacle tarts as Harry Potter, and none of the thrice damned cooks could do it right. I was almost going to give a lordship to the cook that would make me good treacle tarts.

"Yes, yes delicious treacle tarts with cream, custard and lemon juice," He said triumphantly as my mouth watered and vision filled with images of treacle tart.

"You're hired," I said immediately.

I turned around and began unraveling the roots of the trees from around his body and releasing him, proceeded to heal his body from the damage caused by the roots and gave him various fast acting nutrient potions for malnourishment.

"I can probably re-grow that eye back at Winterfell," I said as he stood inspecting his body for the first time in years and walking around like a child.

"Wha… Yes, yes of course. Thank you my lord, I am forever in your debt."

"Just make me good treacle tarts and teach the damned cooks as well and you can consider your debt paid."

I didn't come back from my adventure with a house elf but at least I got a cook.

Author Notes; -I hope this chapter was entertaining. Some of the chapter was generally information of the kingdoms but I hope you like it. Please check the poll and vote which character you would like for Brandon to engage in a relationship with. Vote up to 2.

-Please review and suggest which house Brandon should've alliances with, if and where he should be fostered at and what house will have the first interaction with the Starks.

-Next chapter will feature Greyjoy Rebellion and general awesomeness from our favorite retired dark lord


	7. Chapter 7

Winterfell, 289 AC.

Winterfell and the surrounding land have grown substantially in the past 4 years. From its original size of almost a hundred thousand square meters to a staggering area of almost 900,000 square meters. While the castle itself occupied only 200,000 square meters of the area. The rest was occupied by private farms within the castle itself in case of siege which held a lot of land, the Northern Temple of Knowledge and the Factory covered almost as twice the castle at almost 400,000 sq. meters.

Wintertown was now a proper city that had a large population of 190,000 and has changed almost entirely. Almost all the neighborhoods were built of concrete with supporting steel beams with several institutions and hospices owned by Lord Stark. Wintertown was divided into several neighborhoods each with a completely different design, emulating each of the different Kingdoms and even the Free Cities. The city was remarkably well kept and clean, no beggars or cripples anywhere, the smallfolk were dressed in different designs of wool instead of the traditional rags.

The castle lying at the top of the hill it is situated upon was protected by a moat and a 90 feet high, 10 feet thick white circular wall of fused white stone like the rest of the castle that shone in contrast to the grey of the North and looked as if it was carved from marble with not a single trace of stone. 4 wooden retractable gates connected the keep to the second section which held the factory. Six round towers that were designed to give an unobstructed panorama of the countryside around a fortress, so lookouts could spot oncoming attackers, armed with large ballistae were built at intervals and placed strategically on the wall rose at almost 130 feet high with Wolf banners on top of them.

Some of the buildings; the armory, the glass gardens, the kennels and the library were relocated to the second section that held the factory and the Temple. A section of the innerward encompassed the Godswood which was trimmed and taken care of by a contingent of gardeners that maintained their beauty and planted different kinds of trees and flowers as well as the weirwood trees.

The kitchen, almost as large as the old castle's great hall was located next to the gate connecting it to the food storage for easy access was connected to the main keep, the brewery and contained bakehouses inside solely for the castle. Winterfell had almost 35,000 head of cattle and growing, 80,000 sheep and pigs. The old stables were torn down and a new stable complex was built to accommodate for almost 1000 horses, leading to a large rectangular riding ground surrounded by the stables and carriage house.

The inner courtyard was expanded and paved with concrete and rock and surrounded by arched porticoes that divided the courtyard into several sections clearly with a large direwolf statue made of silver standing proudly on its hind legs in the middle. Several other buildings surrounded the walls since most workshops and smiths were relocated to the factory. The Keep stood in the middle of it all, looking as majestic as it could be, with a thin layer of snow adding to the gleaming white of the castle. It was pentagonal, with each side facing a tower. Fifteen lean, round towers were attached to the keep, growing in height from the first tower as large as the walls, to the last and largest almost twice as high with large snarling direwolf gargoyles atop each side that were pitched black with wings stood imperiously looking down on the castle.

Looking at the castle from distance, you could admire the symmetrical three circular walls that encompassed Winterfell, going upwards the hill until you could see the beauty that was the castle. All in all, the castle was a combination of beauty and power. Providing protection for the north and deserved the title 'The heart of the North' and signifying doom for enemies, making even the bravest of soldiers quiver in its sight.

The castle held 700 rooms and every corridor was littered with ivory and marble busts of Winter Kings and Lords of the Old and Direwolves , marble columns towered on both side and alcoves filled with magnificent tapestries from all over the world, portraits of famous battles.

All of that was achieved because of a young man who was slightly egotistical and vain.

You didn't really expect a former dark lord, leader of the world to rule in a medieval hovel, did you?

Training Courtyard, Winterfell.

Brandon remained firmly on defense as Rodrick Cassel, The Master-at-arms of winterfell continued to attack with his sword trying to find an opening. He wasn't really expecting to beat me, did he? 'Training' with swords from the age of five and having a natural talent should've probably made Rodrick realize that he didn't have any chance against the 9 year old that stood almost lazily parrying his slashes.

I dipped and weaved right as Rodrick took an opening and tried to end it which I quickly parried with my Valyrian Steel sword. I was slightly too young to use Ice so I had to fight with a bastard sword that I found down in the vaults. I brought down my sword to the side and attacked the sudden open spot, but Rodrick managed to shuffle away and counter attack which I blocked. He tried to strike forward and I only managed to evade it with my superior reactions.

I took advantage of his momentum and slightly extended my leg to the left causing him to double over and fall face first to the dirt. "Dead," I said with a slight grin, placing my sword at his throat.

Rodrick got up with a wince, "Your skill is as perfect as always, my lord." He said with a mixture of pride, pain and embarrassment.

"Thank you, Rodrick." I said as I sheathed my sword and allowed Rodrick to return his sword to its place. I haven't been beaten at a spar or a fight ever. I could literally use every weapon that existed in this medieval world. Now you might wonder why a wizard would learn to use weapons, the Avada Kedavra was a clean easy way to kill anyone and anything. The answer was Bellatrix. Bellatrix was fascinated by the way muggles killed each other and I have to admit, there was a certain satisfaction in killing someone with your own hands, or sword. So, adamant not to allow a death eater to supersede me in anything related to general evilness and maliciousness, I copied the knowledge of Master Fighters from all around the world and every Valentine's Day we raided with muggle weapons.

I generally preferred a double edged spear but it was generally uncomfortable in close quarter combat in a real war. So I had re-forged the Valyrian steel I found in the vaults into a ridiculously elaborate bastard sword made. The blade was tinted bright orange near the crossguard and slowly turned red as you went upwards to the tip of the blade with the words 'Soul Reaper' carved on it. The crossguard was made of a black and red phoenix with ruby eyes, with a grip of red-black tinted Valyrian steel. The pommel was, of course, a snarling black dire wolf. It was perfectly balanced and had numerous charms and runes carved on it that added to its elaborate look.

I had an enormous appreciation to my new family and bloodline here. Back in my world, Purebloods could only trace their bloodlines back 3000-4000 years. Here, the Starks were an eye-boggling 8000 years old. Blood of the first men flowed in their veins and had a tiny bit of magic inside them. Not enough to use it of course, but enough to make them stronger and more enduring than the other people who lived in the seven kingdoms. With the one in a thousand that could warg. It was so… specific and limited.

It wasn't necessarily a bad thing. While I wouldn't have my Westerosi Hogwarts any time soon, I wouldn't have uncontrollable wizards as well.

Castle Black, the Wall.

"Lord Stark, it's a pleasure to have you at the wall." Jeor Mormont, 997th Lord Commander of the Night's Watch said as he met the young Lord Stark at the gates of Castle Black.

"The pleasure is all mine, Lord Commander" I said as I climbed down from my horse.

We stood in an awkward silence for a moment until a man beside Mormont said, "Please come inside, Lord Stark. The King's Tower has been prepared for your arrival."

I nodded and gestured for him to lead us there as I gazed upon the wall. It was a massive construct that reached over seven hundred feet at its highest point. What was more interesting however was that I could feel strong ambient magic emanating from the wall. Unsurprising really, it just reaffirmed my belief that the First Men had magic of their own. It had weird runes that I couldn't actually read but could sense their purposes. Spells and wards against necromancy mostly. It was built completely by men however. Nothing was conjured and magic was only used in making sure the wall doesn't fall, but nothing was used in its construction. To think, my namesake built that monstrosity to defend against the fuck up the children created.

It was not a true castle, as it has no walls to defend it to the west, east, or south. Only the Wall stands to the north. It consisted of several stone towers and timber keeps. Beneath the keeps and towers, there was a series of subterranean passages called wormwalks which connect all of the buildings. It was black, obviously. Ridiculously undermanned and barely had enough supplies to function properly.

As our rather large party settled in their apartment, I went to the Lord Commander's solar to discuss my excursion.

"Please sit down, Lord Stark." The man said gesturing to a chair in front his desk. "Now, may you explain the reason of your visit?"

"You do realize that a Stark built the wall don't you?"

"Of course I do." The man said unkindly, "But, lords rarely concern themselves with the state of the Wall and only come here to defend against a King-Beyond-The-Wall."

"Indeed, I planned to arrange transport for several mammoths and large spiders from beyond the wall. Ships have landed at the Shadow Tower and our party is here to guide them there," I told the old man. During my previous visits, I have found a large colony of Acromantulas and Mammoths in there. I was determined to use the Mammoths like the Essosi used elephants in their wars and the Acromantulas were going to be domesticated forcibly and bredand their psychology altered so their only goal in life, is reproducing and producing silk. Precious silk which was going to boost the textile industry of the North ten-fold.

"Most people believe them to be a myth," he said with a raised eyebrow, "But I don't think you'd send a trading fleet and a large party believing they were a myth."

I remained silent, waiting for him to get on with it.

"Very well, my Lord," He said tiredly as he saw that I wouldn't budge. "I, however, can't spare that many men to accompany your large party and protect them."

I waved my hand dismissively, "I will only need 3 rangers to guide us through the land beyond the wall. A larger party is sent aboard the ships and will take care of the transport."

He nodded, "Alright, that's acceptable."

"In the future, we will also provide steel weapons and armor to arm the entirety of the Night's Watch as well as provisions and smallfolk who would occupy the Gift to produce food so that the Night's Watch could focus on manning the wall." I said to sweeten the deal.

His eyes gained a gleam of gratefulness and satisfaction and began stuttering thank you's and praises that looked out of place on the old man's face as I waved them all off.

Our party moved a week later and begun our excursion. I had already gone back and collected colonies in the same place, applied calming wards and non-aggressive charms on all of them so as to not waste time. It took almost a month to round up almost 200 adult Acromantulas and 80 mammoths and by then, they could deal with it on their own and they would find the new breeding facility available back at Winterfell when they returned.

There were whispers of a King beyond the wall gathering clans together but it was so small that it was of no consequence and could be dealt with at a later time.

For now, I had to go to Braavos.

Braavos, Essos.

I had to spend almost 2 weeks travelling to Bravoos on my personal ship, the Great Wolf. Six masts and 350 feet long and 60 feet wide beam. The wooden frame and hull was strengthened by steel, chords, arches, and also was diagonally strapped with steel. With charms and runes to keep the interior dry, reduce weight, reduce resistance from waves and a perfect balance. The ship achieved almost 30 knots average. While the other ships in the Northern fleet had their own charms, they could travel at a maximum of 14 knots. This was the perfection of ship making in this world. It was armed with Scorpios and ballistae for extra protection, not that it needed it. It could outrun any ship this medieval world could ever make.

I couldn't help but feel jealous when I saw the Titan in the distance. The Titan rose at least 500 feet. The Wall was taller than the Titan, yes. But this was an entirely man made creation. The feet of the statue laid on two separate islands, each set upon a mountain. The islands were covered in soldier pines and black spruce. The legs were made of the same black granite that formed the islands upon which it stood. One hand rested on the top of a ridge, its bronze fingers wrapped around the stone. The other hand thrust into the air holding the hilt of a broken sword. In its eyes burnt large fires and its hair was of hempen rope dyed green. Its head was crested with a bronze half helm and its breastplate was made of bronze and filled with arrow slits. The Titan's hips were encased in an armored skirt of a green bronze hue, the bottom covered in murder holes instead of brass bollocks as I expected.

It looked like Venice from my old world. The city is spread across hundreds of tiny islands in the lagoon, connected by arched stone bridges and a network of canals not unlike the land under Ramsgate in the North which I planned to grant to uncle Benjen.

They had some trouble docking though, as many stared gawping at the sheer size of his vassal. Instead of docking at the foreign merchant's dock like any other did. We had to anchor next to an island and go to mainland with small boats.

I quickly made my way towards my goal in the same place while hiding any interest I had in the city behind a cool mask of indifference.

The Iron Bank; the most powerful financial institute in the Known World with clients across Essos and Westeros and most importantly one of the loaners to the Iron Throne. It had a fearsome reputation when collecting debts. When princes or kings default on their debts or are foolish enough not to honor their agreements with the Iron Bank, new princes and kings appear with the Iron Bank's support. These new princes and kings then honor the previous debt along with paying back the money the bank loaned them in claiming their new power, lest they suffer the same fate as their predecessors.

I gazed upon the golden doors of the building that had carvings depicting different scenes and buildings in Braavos, with two golden triangles crossed in the manner of an hourglass, with two hands extending from left and right of the point where the triangles meet, their palms held upwards above as its symbol.

I was directed to a meeting room to wait for the representatives.

Three people quickly entered and sat upon their elaborate chairs and gestured for me to sit on a ridiculous simple chair on the other side of the table.

I swallowed my pride and sat down without a word just meeting the man's gaze until he said, "How may the Iron Bank serve you, Lord Stark."

"I would like to establish a partnership between the North and the Iron Bank." I said bluntly.

The man looked not impressed and replied, "The Iron Bank could loan the North without the need for a partnership."

I barked a laugh and said, "I most definitely don't need a loan. What I want is to establish the first proper partnership between the Iron Bank of Braavos and a Kingdom of Westeros."

The man's facial expression hasn't changed as he replied, "And why should the Iron Bank partner itself with the North and not, the Lannisters or the Crown directly perhaps?"

"Because the North has mountains as large as the entirety of the Westerlands full of gold, is considered the new trading center between Westeros and Essos and is currently the richest Kingdom of Westeros."

"Really now, the North may have rose remarkably in the past few years but do you truly expect me to believe that you're richer than the rest of the Seven Kingdoms?" the man said incredulously.

"If the Iron Bank agrees for a partnership with the North, House Stark is ready to take care of the entire expenses of constructing a bank as large as your own in the North in addition to a base investment of 50 million dragons." I said in a strong voice. Winterfell vaults didn't have that much money of course, but a Philosopher Stone took care of that small problem.

The man's eyes widened, the first reaction he made from the beginning in the meeting.  
"Fiff- Fifty million golden dragons?" He asked, trying to regain his composure.

I nodded.

The man straightened and asked, "And why partner with the Iron Bank? You could establish your own Northern bank in the North without any help from us."

"The North and Braavos share their location in the north of both our continents. We were the first kingdom that outlawed slavery, we are both the largest trading hubs of both our continents and linking your city to our kingdom in an alliance would be far beneficial than making a rival bank. Also, the Iron Bank integrity and reputation would be hard to match."

He nodded shakily as he still looked shaken, "And the terms of this partnership?"

"The Iron Bank of the North would have a council made of a mixture of Northmen and Braavosian, allowing deeper relationships. Also, a percentage of the council in Braavos would be open for lords and merchants of the North. A Great council would conclude for general matters regarding the Iron Bank every 3 months and each bank would be concerned solely to its continent to allow better and deeper influence on both sides. Braavos and The North would have a military alliance and no taxes on any Braavosi or Northerner ships entering both our ports and harbors."

"That matter concerns the Sealord not the Iron Bank," He interrupted.

"I'm sure if the Iron Bank endorses it the sea lord would be amiable to accepting the alliance." I said with a dismissive wave of my hand, "Lastly, a Northern Trading center would be established in Braavos and the same at the group of Islands that were created due to the unfortunate earthquakes that hit the North beneath Ramsgate."

The man looked to the men to his sides and he replied after a moment of furious whispering, "Unfortunately, I can't answer you in such a large matter. We would convene a council and answer you. How long are you staying in Braavos?" The man asked.

"For as long as it takes to establish a partnership with the Iron Bank." I said simply.

"Excellent, we will send a representative to you by the end of the week with our answer and hopefully, a contract."

I nodded and strode out of the room with a serpentine grace.

I realized I had little to do and set out to explore the city.

The palace of the Sealord was a beautiful thing made up of domed marble structures. It housed the Purple Harbor where all local ships docked. I passed through numerous bridges and canals walking around distractedly while admiring the beauty of Braavos. It was unlike the North in its architecture and buildings but shared the same blasted weather although a bit lighter.

I soon reached the Drowned Town, the oldest part of the city. Only domes and towers of the buildings were visible above the surface of the water. Some poor people lived in some of the half-submerged buildings. I passed the Isle of the Gods in the center of the city. What stood out the most was the Temple of Moonsingers, who led the original Braavosi refugees to the islands. Theirs was the biggest temple, built of white marble capped with a silvered dome, milk glass windows showing all the phases of the moon, and a pair of marble maidens flanks its gates. A Red Temple that was dedicated to the Lord of Light, a small sept and other unkown gods and temples were the shrine of the Weeping Lady of Lys, the Gardens of Gelenei, the wooden hall of the Lord of Harmony, the house of the Great Shepherd, a three-turreted tower honoring Trios, the Stones of the Silent God, the Patternmaker's Maze, the temple of Aquan the Red Bull, and twin temples honoring Semosh and Selloso, and the temple of the Cult of Starry Wisdom. Even gods that have no more followers are honored in a temple called the Holy Refuge.

It was the last building that he came upon that he felt an indescribable pull towards. It was a simple large building with only a black and white door as an entrance. "Ahh, so this was the famous House of Black and White," I thought with a grin as I pushed the doors. "It should prove interesting to see."

The entrance hall to the large building was simple though there were various statues in the room, all of gods and even a weirwood tree.

"Valar morghulis," A voice intoned from behind me.

I spun around to find a man wearing rags and held a curious inquisitive look on his face. "Valar Dohaeris," I replied, the customary greeting of Braavosi.

"You are touched by the Many-Faced god, but you are not a servant…" he asked helplessly confused.

"So that's what you call the old fucker here," I muttered I cleared my throat and asked, "Am I really?"

He nodded and looked as helpless as ever," Some have come here to ask that you be delivered the gift, but the many-faced gods forbids it."

Someone wanted to assassinate me, how curious.

"Well, that is for me to know and for you to find out. Cheerio!" I said cheerfully as I left the man and started walking outside.

"The faceless men would be honored to deliver the gift to any you seek," The man said before I closed the door.

That was nice, but I truly doubted I would need an assassin to finish off a job for me.

A week later.

Finally, the hour has come. I was waiting for the representatives to give me their reply for my offer.

The three same men entered like the last time with a stack of parchment in their hands and sat down, "The Iron Bank would be glad to establish the Iron Bank of the North with your partnership." The man said with a disarming smile as if he was doing me a favor but I couldn't bring myself to care right now.

I finally held the economic titan of the Known World in my grasp.

"And the terms?" I asked barely restraining myself from jumping up and down.

"The Iron Bank is willing to accept 25% seats in the Northern Branch in return for clearing 25% of ours for Northeners. But…" Fuck me. "The Iron Bank wishes to pay 50% of the fees for building the Bank in exchange for establishing another branch of the Temple of Knowledge in Braavos as well as marketing the medicine and investing in its research."

That… was great actually. I held onto the medical knowledge jealously and never once thought about distributing them. Producing medicine that could heal almost most of the fevers and diseases on a wide-scale in both the continents would provide another huge source of income.

"You have the papers for that, I assume?"

"Of course," He smiled, handing me a huge stack of parchment to revise and sign. As I looked incredulously he elaborated, "You have to understand that this is a huge venture for the Iron Bank so we had to be a bit thorough than usual. This is just the agreements and investments in the Bank and the Temple as well as a 60 million golden dragon penalty if Winterfell fails to deliver. Also in the second stack of parchment you would find the proportion of…. "

I smiled weakly as he continued to drone on and on with only one thought on my head, "I really need a fucking secretary." I don't suppose I would have dreams of an office that would have a super secretary trapped in stacks of parchments and quills?

Winterfell.

I spent almost another 3 weeks in Braavos reviewing and bargaining and bantering with the representatives of the Iron Bank. Finally we reached an acceptable agreement for both sides that was highly beneficial and signed on it. I met with the Sealord and quickly signed on the agreement of military alliance and trade agreements. We agreed on trading lots on Firewood to the city as it was rare there.

We took another two weeks to specify which empty Island the Trading Center would be built upon and after a ridiculous amount of paperwork we were done and on our way to the North.

We landed at the new harbor under Ramsgate and rode to Winterfell leisurely gazing upon the grandness and vast improvement in the North and its lands.

If I knew what awaited me at Winterfell however, I would've stayed at Braavos.

"Lord Stark, Lord STARK!" Maester Luwin screamed running from the direction of the Temple looking ridiculous and out of breath.

"Calm down, Maester. What is wrong?" I asked amused.

"The Ironborn have risen in rebellion. They burned the fleet and harbor of Cape of the Eagles, my lord." He said hurriedly.

I should've really place fire-suppression charms there. No matter, I was going to make an example out of the Greyjoys.


	8. Chapter 8

Winterfell, The North

"Nephew, I heard the news just as I was about to leave for my expedition." Uncle Benjen frowned, "Lannisport and The Cape of Eagles burnt at the same time? Do the Ironborn not know that it's not even our military fleet they burned?"

"It matters not, Uncle Benjen. Regardless of the whole rebellion thingy, this was a direct attack on the North and I will retaliate."

Benjen wore a silly grin and then his face fell almost immediately, "I must remain here, right?"

"Wh-What, why?" I asked baffled.

He frowned and said, "There must always be a Stark at Winterfell."

"Or what, it'll fall?" I asked sarcastically, "Don't be ridiculous Uncle Benjen, your expedition will still go on time. Winterfell will still be standing by the time you return."

He sputtered and shouted, "But there must be a Stark at Winterfell!"

"Who told you that?" I asked, rubbing my eyes.

"Ned."

"And when did Uncle Ned tell you that?"

"When he was off to war…" He trailed off softly as his eyes widened in recognition, "That bastard tricked me!"

"Most likely," I said sympathetically and pointed out, "And you were his heir if anything happened to him during the war."

Benjen muttered obscenities and walked out of my solar and he stopped back suddenly and asked, "Are you going to meet with the throne's troops? How many ships are you taking? Are you sure I shouldn't go instead? You're still young; no one would say a thing."

I sighed, "No, I won't. 5. No, you've delayed your expedition enough. I want to watch the Iron Islands fall myself. Here, in order, now can you please just go!"

"FIVE!" He yelled. "The Iron fleet has 300 ships. What are you going to do with 5 fucking ships?"

"Leave that to me." I answered with a shit eating grin.

Cape Kraken

Unlike what most lords would do in case of an attack. I didn't, in fact, raise any levies or send ravens to any lords to answer the call. I went alone.

I should really start professional troops and a standing army like the Westerlands. We had enough money for it but it has slipped my attention so far. I knew that the Iron Bank was keeping eye on me to see how I would deal with the threat of the Iron Born so I was adamant to impress them.

5 Ships loaded with ballista and scorpios, ridiculously large cannons armed with explosive and enchanted shots that were a Northern secret that were going to wreak havoc and utterly scare the Ironborn for the next 8,000 years.

With the Great Wolf leading them, I set sail from Cape Kraken and our way to Pyke.

I was utterly enamored with the idea of immortalizing myself in a song and was determined to do so. The Rains of Castamere comes to mind, Tywin Lannister was utterly ruthless and 30 years later people sung his song and still feared him for it. The Iron Islands were an annoyance that my fleet had to deal with repeatedly. Their attack on our harbor and fleet was just the push I needed to conquer these Islands. The Royal fleet was luckily engaged with the Iron fleet at the coat of Fair Isle. So I would face no annoyance. My honor was at stake here.

A raven from Moat Cailin almost made me turn back and change all my plans.

6 Year Old Sansa Stark, my cousin, was kidnapped by the Ironborn while she was playing around Moat Cailin and held hostage at Pyke. The sheer audacity of that man surprised me. We had a ridiculously large trading fleet and could arrange transportation for 150,000 levies to storm the Iron Island at a moment noticed, coupled with our military fleet, the Royal Fleet and the Reach Fleet. We were outnumbering him ridiculously. Did he really believe he was going to win this? I was determined more than ever to make an example of Greyjoy.

As soon as Pyke was in sight, I disullisoned myself and apparated to shore. The Castle of Pyke was originally built on a cliff jutting out into the sea, but now its towers stood on small barren rock stacks, surrounded by water. The towers are connected by swaying rope bridges. The keep, its towers, walls and bridges are made of the same grey-black stone of which the rest of the island is composed. "Utterly disgusting" I thought disdainfully. I hit the rocks on which the castle rested upon with weakening and decaying charms and set on to my original task, rescuing my cousin.

"Point me Sansa Stark" I intoned. The arrow rolled for a while until it rested pointing towards a massive building on an equally big isle. 'Must be the Great Keep'

I walked through the Great Keep confidently following the arrow as it changed directions as I neared my target, periodically placing greek fire or wildfire as it's called here in hidden places.

I entered through a small door at the left where I found a small redhead girl weeping softly in the corner. I dropped the disulliosment charm and gently closed the door with a click as her face whipped fearfully towards my direction.

"Shhh, Sansa Stark?" I asked.

She nodded, furiously wiping her tears as I replied with the kindest face I could muster," I'm your big cousin Brandon, have you heard of me?"

"Yes," She whispered softly with hope now in her eyes.

I held my hand out to her and whispered, "Come on, I'm taking you back home."

She jumped into my arms suddenly and started crying while I desperately tried to soothe her, whispering kind words. "I'm going to need you to be quiet now if we want to get out of here. Can you do that for me?" I asked her.

She nodded and I carried her on my back.

I couldn't use my magic so blatantly in sight and as I have tried, and failed, to harm or cast magic directly for some reason on uncle Benjen. I assumed she would be the same. I hit us with a notice-me-not and began walking in the shadows of the castle. Stopping every once in a while to calm the girl each time the storm got particularly fierce. We reached the gates without any problems and were almost going to slip by the guards when Sansa screamed.

Of fucking course the Notice-me-not wouldn't hold with her screaming. There were a couple of Ironborn scums raping a thrall while another lay dead on the floor with his insides spilling all over the floor.

The Ironborn quickly looked towards our direction and began brandishing their swords as I swore and put her down and took out my own.

I threw a dagger directly through the first's throat and he fell down quickly. The second hesitated for a moment to look to his fallen comrade and by then I was within striking distance and pushed my sword through his guts. The last one, enraged ran raising a club towards me which I promptly sidestepped and slashed through his boiled leather with ease.

I wiped the blood of my sword and looked towards the location where I left Sansa to find her in a state of shock. Good, the less crying the faster I could get out of this god-forsaken place.

I carried her on my back and quickly climbed down the rocky isle with a rope where a conjured boat was waiting for us.

I hit the boat with a notice-me-not charm and made my way back to the Great Wolf.

I was going to make those bastards truly regret it.

We reached the ship among cheering from my crew and climbed the ship with the help of the sailors.

I was still carrying Sansa so I rushed quickly and placed her in my cabin and once she was settled, I went outside.

"Milord, ships approaching," He said looking through his spy glass, "Flying House Greyjoy, Harlaw and Hoare."

"Arm the cannons," I yelled and the command was repeated throughout the ships.

I waited until the 30 ships were within shooting distance and yelled, "FIRE"

I stood gloriously as our ships rained fire upon the Ironborn as they jumped panicking from their ships to their precious Drowned God. In just one round the thirty ships were sinking and the survivors thrashing in the sea.

"Now, get us near the Islands boy." I said with a grin as the burning ships illuminated the sky.

Banefort, The Royal Army.

"The North sends five fucking ships?" Robert Baratheon yelled to no one in particular as he threw his cup of whiskey to the wall.

"It seems they are going to be five ships in the bottom of the sea, your grace." Tywin Lannister said, pointing towards the 30 ships that were approaching the Northern 'fleet'.

"Ned's nephew is on that vassal." He said suddenly panicked.

"Aye, Let us hope the young wolf can run them out." One of the lords said.

"Unlikely, do you see the size of that thing?" Kevan Lannister snorted, but quickly whimpered under the sharp gaze of the king.

"Such a shame," Tywin said without a hint of sympathy.

The Lords muttering was suddenly interrupted by thunderous booms that echoed over the roaring of the storm. The Stark ships were firing weird round shots from their sides that seemed to wreck every ship it hit. They watched as 5 ships drowned 6 times their number without even approaching them, all of them amazed and taken aback.

"Seven Hells," Robert muttered. Even Tywin Lannister, the Old Lion of the Rock himself, stood with a gaping mouth at the destruction. Such weapons would change naval warfare and sieges forever if he could get his hands on it.

"Where are they going?" One of the lords yelled as the Northern ships changed direction and sailed towards Pyke.

All of them stood with a baited breath waiting to see what the boy lord would do next.

"Give me that bloody thing." Robert said, snatching a spyglass from a nearby lord.

He looked towards the ships and saw large cylinderical metal thing raised on the deck and aimed upwards, straight towards the Castle of Pyke. One, two, three more booms were heard and what he saw almost made him piss in fear. The fearsome Castle of Pyke was falling of its rock while other parts were ablaze with green fire eating through whatever part managed to stay on the rock. The ships, without even waiting to see what destruction they caused turned towards Harlaw and did the same as the Ten Towers as it followed suit to the Drowned God.

20 large ships following from the distance landed troops on Pyke and Harlaw consecutively to take control on whatever resistance that would be remaining on the Islands.

As the Young Wolf continued to systematically tear down every castle on the Iron Islands, all the lords and knights could only stand in horror watching with the horrible echo of firing overlapping the storm as a noise.

One week later, Tywin Lannister.

In only 7 days, the Iron Islands were conquered by the North fleet. In what he thought would be the wolf's downfall; instead it was the reaffirming of the Wolf's danger as an enemy.

Stannis and the Redwyne fleet and their lords arrived on the 4th day and watched with horror at the destruction the 5 vassals wrecked on the iron islands. The only reinforcement ships that were sent, were trading vassals that transported troops to take over and control the islands and slaughter whatever resistance was left. Already, some of the bards were making songs about the destruction. And they think I am ruthless?

As the boy of nine climbed down from his now docked ship and made his way towards Robert. He couldn't help but feel disappointed in his children. Why couldn't Jaime be as smart as that boy was? All he knew was swinging that sword of his and taking honor in being a glorified bodyguard. The imp was smart but was a disgrace and stain to the Lannister name. The gods liked to mock the great Tywin Lannister. The boy's gall to marry a commoner girl… a story for another day perhaps…

The lords parted away from the boy'spath with looks of awe, fear and respect. The 9 year old walked with a serpentine grace into the Royal tent and Tywin quickly followed.

"Your grace, Lord Brandon Stark at your service" The boy nodded respectfully with a tight face at Robert as entered the tent.

"You look just like your father. A good man, Brandon Stark was. He didn't deserve that horrible death at the hands of Aerys." Robert said, his eyes filled with rage at the memory of anything Targeryan.

"Thank you, your grace."

"Sit, sit. Would you like a cup of whiskey? Bloody great things your northerner drinks are." The man said joyfully as he poured himself almost a tankard.

The boy said with a smile, "Thank you, I'm not sure Uncle Ned would approve of me drinking at such a young age."

Robert boomed with laughter, "Always was uptight back in our days at the Vale."

"Perhaps we should take care of the matter in hand, your grace." I interjected softly before Robert could regal the boy of tales of his days back at the Vale.

"What matter?" At my sharp gaze towards the Iron Islands he amended, "Ahh, yes of course. Now, what the hell were those thundering things?"

"These were cannons, your grace." The boy answered softly, "A fairly new invention of the North. Untested, but the Ironborn volunteered for its testing."

"Isn't exterminating every rebelling house a tad bit overzealous though?" He chuckled nervously.

"Oh, that wasn't for rebelling."

"Why the fuck did you destroy each and every castle on the Iron Islands then?" Robert asked incredulously.

The boy replied, "It seems the Ironborn forgot what last happened when a Stark was kidnapped." So that's your play. Clever, I must admit. Reminding Robert that Lyanna was a Stark and his following destruction of the Targeryans.

And just like he thought, Robert eyes darkened with rage and growled, "Kidnapped?"

"Sansa, Uncle Ned's daughter was kidnapped by the Iron scum but luckily, we managed to retrieve her before attacking." The boy nodded with a fake solemn face that I had no trouble spotting. I would bet on the Rock itself that the kidnapping was only a nuisance that served to irritate him and give him one more reason to destroy the Iron Islands.

"Fucking bastards deserved it. Good, no more bloody trouble from the Ironborn anymore."

"There's still a matter of whom would rule the Iron Islands though," I reminded Robert.

"The North would hold four of them for the Iron throne, the Lannisters one and the Royal fleet two. We would make sure that no Ironborn would ever raid the coasts again, and Northern presence would deter any from doing so."

By now Robert had gotten to his 5th drink and his eyes were gleaming with the thought of being the first king that has forever curbed the Iron Islands completely the matter at hand.. The amount of power he was giving the boy with handing over most of the Iron Islands. He answered with slightly glazed eyes. "Yes, Excellent. Make sure those scum never raid, reave or rape again, little Stark."

"Of course, your grace." The boy said looking at me directly and excused himself. Just what were you getting at?

"Lord Lannister, A word if you may?"

I nodded and followed the boy outside as he opened, "I heard you were looking for a Valyrian Steel blade for your family."

"Indeed," I said, barely holding my excitement. Was the boy going to finally give me my greatest desire?

"And what would you offer if someone perchance, offered you the ancestral sword of the Lannisters itself?" the boy asked

"Anything." I almost growled.

The boy smiled and nodded towards one of his men carrying a chest. The men placed it on the table in front of us and opened it and here it was in all its glory, Brightroar. I gazed with astonishment and resisted the urge to snatch it from the chest and approached softly, looking over the ripples that were the trademark Valyrian Steel sign of authenticity. I carried it and held it in my grip. It was comfortable, perfectly balanced, as if it was made for me in mind.

"Thank you, my lord." I said softly as I straightened up, "A Lannister always pays his debts. Ask anything of me and I will grant it."

"Trabeck Hall." The boy said almost immediately.

I frowned confused, "You are already a Lord Paramount, what use would that ruin be for you?"

"I don't want the accompanying title." He waved his hand dismissively. "I just want to re-build the grounds and castle to the first Northern trading post in the Westerlands. The lands upon the castle would be considered Northern territory and would be solely for providing goods and as a base for northern trade in the west."

I wrecked my mind for any hidden intention the boy could have with asking for that. I could've given him 2 million dragons with no hesitation and he asks for that piece of crap?

"I assume the trading post would pay taxes to Casterly Rock?"

"Of course," the boy answered with a grin.

I nodded and said, "Very well then, from this day forth Tarbeck Hall is yours to do as you wish."

"My builders would arrive within a month. Thank you, Lord Tywin." The boy said, walking off.

"No. Thank you for returning this." I whispered to myself, unwilling to take my eyes of Brightroar lest it disappears.

Moat Cailin.

The Greyjoy Rebellion- If you can call that a rebellion, has proven extremely rewarding. In a single move I had control over 4 of the most important Islands in the Sunset Sea, took care of the Ironborn problem, and earned the gratitude of the Warden of the West and numerous other lords that suffered from raiding. I of course had to cast a weak confundus on the king to make sure he doesn't reprimand me for destroying over 30 noble houses in a week.

Now some of you might wonder why I don't just imperio the King and a couple select lords and just rule the Seven Kingdoms in one sweep. The answer was quite simple. I was a Hufflepuff. The euphoria from building a standing power base and taking over with no assistance of magic was glorious and made a lasting legacy. All in all, hard work was enticing and arousing for us puffs.

I had heard from numerous sources that Tywin Lannister was searching under every rock in Westeros for a Valyrian Steel sword, offering outrageous rewards and prices. A simple accio, had Brightroar flying in my way and a new military post disguised as a trading post in the heart of the Westerlands, with a direct view of Casterly Rock and Lannisport.

Giving the other 3 islands away wasn't just a spur of generosity. I wanted the Royal fleet and Lannister fleet to relocate some of their ships to the Iron Islands so that I could pick them off and burn them if I ever had a reason to. Now I had the western and eastern coast of Westeros in grasp. With two of the most important fleets –excluding The Reach in westeros just waiting to be burned in case they twitched unnecessarily.

Sansa has been glued to my side ever since saving her with a reverent look in her eyes. I had prior experience of course with being considered a savior a multitude of times but this has been getting a bit irritating to be frank, no wonder I was more comfortable as an orphan. Having family was so… confusing. All my actions had to be considered carefully, along with any consequences they would have on my extended family. It was irritating. I would usually do about anything and everything with no fear of retribution. Who could actually harm me?

We planned to drop her off at Moat Cailin and stay there for a couple of days to check on uncle Eddard and continue to Winterfell.

Moat Cailin is an effective natural choke point which has protected the North from southern invasion for thousands of years. In the past, the only way for an invader to effectively bypass Moat Cailin is to win the allegiance of House Reed and the crannogmen who know of other routes through the swamps. These routes, such as narrow trails between the bogs and wet roads through the reeds that only boats can follow, are not on any map. Given House Reed's strong ancestral ties to House Stark and Howland's personal friendship with uncle Ned, they were unlikely to aid southerners anytime soon. Given the new Grand Canal that completely separated the north from the south, it was impossible to invade the North.

With the builders, concrete and blueprints I sent uncle Ned the Castle has been completely refurbished from the rotten wooden, green keep that it was into a new intimidating structure made completely of stone and concrete. The twenty towers have been completely rebuilt. We had to transport food every month though if we didn't want them to eat food from the swamps. I had half a mind to just vanish the swamps from the smell we suffered on our way but refrained; the swampy terrain was enough to prevent Moat Cailin from falling in the Andal invasion. It was a key defence of the north against which the filthy Andal armies threw themselves time after time with no success.

I have made sure to provide a multitude of weapons to arm the northern side of Moat Cailin to make sure that there were no surprises from the northern flank. The shore of the canal was rocky and no army could ever hope to land on it to take Moat Cailin, that and the inspection of every ship passing through either sides of the Canal. I had the builders build the first retractable double bridge in the North. It was normally lifted to allow ships to pass through the canal and was only brought down to let armies or large caravans to pass through the Kingsroad. In the case of small parties however, a couple of large ferries to allow easy and fast transportation.

Our rather small party arrived at Winterfell whereas all the spoils of war were being transported to Cape Kraken until the new harbor and fleet is rebuilt at Cape of Eagles. The entire habitants of Moat Cailin were standing to greet us.

Catelyn Stark wasted no time in greeting us and just ran to claim her lost daughter and check over her for any superficial wounds or injuries where uncle Eddard stood with his usual grimness with a fond smile on his face and waited for his turn.

"Sansa," she scereamed, "Are you okay sweetling?"

The girl nodded with a watery smile at being reunited with her family and said, "Yes mommy, Brandon saved me."

At the mention of my name Lady Stark looked at me and claimed me in a hug while muttering thanks over and over again. I had no idea how to react to hugs so I just stood awkwardly patting her back. "It was my duty as Lord Stark, my lady."

She backed away quickly and furiously wiped her eyes and curtsied, "I apologize for my lack of decorum, Lord Stark. Welcome to Moat Cailin."

I waved her off, "We're family, please call me Brandon."

"Then call me aunt Cat if you wish," She said with a smile.

Yea that wasn't going to happen. I was already pushing it.

I nodded and was once again claimed by a manly hug that belonged to my uncle that was thankfully brief and silent.

"Thank you Brandon. I would've gone myself, but I had to make sure the rest of the North was protected. "Ned said with a strong voice.

"And the rest of the north definitely appreciates it Uncle Ned." I said with an easy grin.

He smiled back and introduced me to a boy around my age, "This is Robb, my eldest son."

"Named after our beloved King Robert?" I asked with a raised eyebrow.

"You've met him then?" He asked with an amused smile.

I nodded, "He was quite put out that he missed out all the fight after our victory at the Iron Islands. That and he were impressed in our weapons."

He bristled at the reminder and looked as if he was about to say something but held himself back and continued, "And you've met Sansa, of course."

"And this little one," he said as he took a bundle from a wetnurse on the sidelines, "is little Bran."

I looked at my namesake or at least I assumed they named him after me, He could've been named after my father or our famous ancestor. "He looks a bit like you, doesn't he?" Uncle Ned asked with a grin.

He's barely a few months old, he looks like a potato. I thought but refrained from answering and just nodded with a smile.

He handed the bundle to his wife and motioned me inside, "We've prepared a feast for you. I'm sure you would rather get some rest of course."

I nodded. I really missed my comfortable feather bed that didn't continuously rock back and forth.

I went to my room and fell asleep with all my clothes on.

"Milord," a timid voice called from at the door.

I looked towards the window. The sun was barely up. I was surprised that girl managed to wake me up so fast and early. Back in my days as a dark lord, I could sleep through a death eater raid. It caused a huge amount of problems back then, Aurors could storm our headquarters and I wouldn't have woken up. Nagini had to bite me with her impressive jaw to even make me stir a bit from my sleep. Speaking of Nagini, I really ought to find a new familiar. And where the fuck was Fawkes?

I turned towards the girl with a grin that had her blushing. Really? I was nine you perverted sick girl, an impressive nine year old but nine never less. "Set me up a bath, please."

She looked surprised for that last please but even dark lords back on earth had manners. When she didn't move, I looked inquisitively and she pointed out beside me. I found a small redheaded girl snuggling softly besides me. Oh gods, not again. Was I cursed with redheaded fan girls in both lives? I was going to get the hell out of here as soon as possible so that the girl could hopefully limit her hero worship towards me. I extracted myself as softly as I could form her surprisingly strong grip and carried her to the maid.

I turned back stretching and looking out of the window. It was a filthy hovel. I felt sorry for Uncle Ned staying here, but I couldn't trust anyone other than a Stark with holding Moat Cailin. That and he asked specifically for Moat Cailin, it wasn't like I forced him to take it. I was adamant to send some ice from the far North to help preserve some of the food sent here and perhaps plant rice in the flooded ground. Huh? Ice. Perhaps I could market it here. People never really realized the need of ice until they had it. It would revolutionize meat, vegetable and fishing industry all over the world. With the proper ice houses all over the Seven Kingdoms, I could sell it for outrageous prices down South. I was going to do just that as soon I go back to Winterfell. Perhaps even make some ice cream. I thought excitedly. We weren't going to make any Helga Hufflepuff flavored ice cream anytime soon but I missed ice cream dearly.

I stripped from my fine robes and climbed the medieval bath with a sigh. It was okay for Moat Cailin but back in Winterfell, the hotsprings were expanded and provided clean hot water for everyone, even the peasants. I absolutely abhorred the smell and sight of dirt covered smallfolk and with the new large bathhouses all over Winterfell, everyone was bathing for free almost every day.

I finished bathing and found out furs lain out on my bed. Furs, Really? I knew I wore light clothes for the chilly weather of the north but all my clothes had warming charms applied on them. I discarded the furs and picked out a grey shirt with black pants instead of the disgusting breeches that smallfolk wore and a plain silk black robe with grey lining with our sigil on the left breast.

I walked out the castle and was surprised with the sight of a rather small party carrying fish banners. A stout broad man, with blue eyes and greying red hair wearing silver plate and mail with the signature red and blue Tully cloak on his back was leading the party. So that was Hoster Tully.

Catelyn was standing with a frown besides Uncle Ned and looking inquisitively at her father's arrival. I held back a grin, being the only one who knew why he was here as I eyed the bundle she was carrying.

Hoster got down off his horse and hugged his daughter briefly and met all his grandchildren with a fond smile.

"Father, why are you here though?" Catelyn asked.

"I can't come and meet my daughter and grandchildren?" He asked with a playful frown.

I choose that moment to make an appearance and strode imperiously towards the gathering, "No but it's generally polite to announce your arrival before you come."

Hoster looked angrily around to spot the voice who spoke until his eyes landed on me and widened, "I uh- we sent a raven, must have been lost on the way." He said awkwardly.

"I didn't have the pleasure of meeting you back at the Banefort, Lord Hoster. I am Lord Brandon Stark," I said extending my hand.

He flinched slightly as he remembered the massacre of the Iron Islands and Uncle Ned frowned as well. Just what was wrong with him? "Uh yes, a most impressive victory lord stark," He stumbled.

I nodded in thanks and we stood in silence for a while until I asked again, "And the reason for gracing us with your presence here at the North, Lord Tully?"

"Perhaps we could discuss this at the feast tonight?" Catelyn suggested.

"Ah, yes of course." He replied moving inside with a last nod in my direction as I held back a grin. I loved making people uncomfortable.\

Uncle Ned stood back and said, "Nephew, a word if you may?"

I nodded and followed him as we walked in a companionable silence until he finally opened, "Don't you think destroying every castle and hold on the Iron Islands was wrong?"

I raised my eyebrow, "They kidnapped my cousin, your daughter." I remarked, "Last time a Stark was kidnapped you rose in a rebellion with half the continent and hundreds of thousands died."

"That was different."

"Different… how exactly?"

"There were innocent children and people in those castles." He almost yelled.

I was getting annoyed, "So were Elia Martell and her children, and the thousands of children that died because of your rebellion."

His eyes flashed in rage, "That was Tywin Lannister and his mad dogs, not me."

I shrugged and said, "The point stands. Innocent people die in wars. Every Ironborn is a stain on humanity; they take pride in reaving, raping and raiding other innocent people."

"So you're just going to exterminate everyone in your way?" He said angrily, "Looking for your own Rains of Castamere?"

"Take it as you will but as long as I live and am the Lord of the North, no slight will be left unanswered," I said as I walked off towards the feast.

We arrived before Hoster Tully. The entire hall was cleaned and filled with food for our arrival. On the head table Catelyn, Robb and Sansa were already seated. I took my place at the head of the table and Uncle Ned sat beside me, stiff from our past argument.

"Is everything okay?" Catelyn asked looking between us.

I looked at Uncle Ned pointedly and he nodded.

I chatted a bit with Catelyn and Robb and suddenly frowned, "Don't you have another son, Uncle Ned? Jon was his name."

Catelyn went stiff and a sudden uncomfortable silence gripped the table. She answered, "He's down there eating with the others."

I ignored her and asked Uncle Ned with a raised eyebrow, "And why is he down not up here with the rest of his family?"

"A bastard has no place on the head table," Catelyn sniffed.

I narrowed my eyes and enjoyed her flinch, "He's a Stark regardless of his last name. Please invite him up here Uncle Ned."

Uncle Ned nodded with a soft smile, his previous anger forgotten as he motioned for Jon to come up.

Jon went to the head table looking confused. He looked like a bit like me- like a Stark, while the others looked like their Tully mother.

"Aye, you look like a Stark. Have a seat Jon." I motioned to the empty seat beside me.

"Thank you, my lord." He bowed, still rigid.

I smiled, "Call me Brandon, we're family."

I tried to diffuse the tension, including Jon in the conversation a lot and chattering incessantly until he flowed with the conversation pointedly ignoring Lady Stark's cold glare.

I could feel the gratefulness in his eyes when I treated him like his brothers. Was the kid being treated like dirt because of his father's mistake? No wonder he was so stiff and grim.

Hoster Tully entered the Hall and took his seat on the head table besides his daughter and frowned at Jon, "And who are you?"

Jon went rigid once again as he answered softly, "Jon, my lord. Jon Snow."

Hoster's eye narrowed as he spat sarcastically, "Ahh, the honorable lord Stark huge mistake."

I banged the table enough to make it shake and you could hear a needle drop in the silence that gripped the hall. "Bastard or not, he's still a Stark." I whispered softly with a dark undertone, "Watch your tongue Tully or the next time you insult my kin, Riverrun would suffer the same fate as Pyke."

I cherished his face that changed between pale white with horror to purple red with anger. I stood up and wiped my face with a cloth and thanked Uncle Ned, "Thank you for the feast, Uncle Ned. I fear we must get going though. Jon, follow me please."

Jon followed me his face still full of wonder, "Do you enjoy it here at Moat Cailin, Jon?"

He collected himself and nodded, "My father and brothers and sister are here, my Lord."

"I told you to call me Brandon, Jon." I shook my head, "Is that how Lady Stark treats you normally?"

He looked torn and nodded with a grim face.

"She's quite the petty bitch, isn't she?" I said with a grin.

His eyes widened and said in horror, "She's my lord father's wife."

I rolled my eyes, "Still a bitch. Go on, admit it. I bet you've wanted to call her that your entire life."

He shuffled nervously and nodded with a small smile, "A little bit, yeah."

I laughed and said, "What do you want to be when you grow up, Jon?"

He straightened up, "I want to become a sworn brother of the Night's Watch."

"That rapists and thieves dumpster?" I asked incredulously.

He answered indignantly, "Starks have manned the Night's Watch honorably for the past 8,000 years."

"It is a dumpster that the south sends their prisoners to when their cells are full." I said plainly.

His eyes were downcast and said, "I am a bastard, my lord. Where else could I go? At least there I would be doing something honorable and even bastards are treated respectfully."

What was it with Starks and throwing away their lives at that ridiculous Ice Wall? First Benjen and then Jon?

"That's not going to happen." I said as a matter of fact. "You're coming back with me to Winterfell. Keep Benjen and I company and see the world. I'm sure I could pressure Robert in the future to legitimize you and build you a castle somewhere."

His eyes widened and he stumbled, "I-I… Thank you. But why do all that for me?"

"You're a Stark boy." I said strongly. "You'll be treated as such and deserve more. Now enough self-pitying, the next time I hear you bemoaning that you're a bastard I'm going to hit you over the head. You're going to Winterfell with me and they will all respect you because you're a Stark and you better start acting like one."

A voice interjected angrily from behind, "And you're just going to take him to Winterfell without my permission?"

I turned around to see Uncle Ned striding towards us, "Please leave us, Jon."

"He's my son." He said angrily.

"And your wife is treating him like trash and he blames himself for your mistake." I said, "He considers himself the stain on your honor. Did you know he plans to throw it all and join the Night's Watch when he grows up?"

His eyes darken slightly and he says sadly, "I try to get Catelyn to treat him like she treats the others to no avail."

"Well, back at Winterfell he would get an actual life and lose those ridiculous notions of giving away his life for manning the Wall."

He nodded and asked suspiciously, "I appreciate it, nephew. But why are you doing this?"

"Well, Ben and I travel quite frequently and there must always be a Stark at Winterfell, right?" I said amusedly.

He smiled sheepishly, "He was still young and I didn't want him running off to war, I had to make up something."

I smiled back, "I figured as much. A word of warning though, he's been promising vengeance the next time he sees you." We shared a laugh, "The real reason though is because I'd like to have a friend my age. Uncle Benjen told me that we arrived to Winterfell together. By taking him back to Winterfell, I'd have a trusted advisor that I know would never betray me."

He said sadly, "Take care of him there."

I waved him off, "The north is always loyal to the Starks, and he's going to be treated like a king there."

He nodded and called for Jon, "You're going to join your cousin and uncle at Winterfell. Is that what you want?"

He made an imitation of a house elf nodding. "Go pack your things then, the party moves at first light."

He threw himself at his father and thanked him over and over and took off to his room running as Uncle Ned chuckled

Jon couldn't believe it. He was finally on his way to Winterfell, free from Lady Stark's scathing remarks and cold glares to a place where he is accepted. The farewell was suffocating. Lady Stark was torn from being glad that Jon was leaving and being angry for the threat aimed at her father, coupled with the Sept being hit with a thunder bolt in the night and then the earth proceeded to crack and the whole bloody thing crumbled into rocks.

"Wrath of the Old Gods." Some of them whispered smugly. Most of the residents of the castle objected to it being built in the first place, and he doubted his father would build any other soon if his disappearance at the Weirwood tree for a few hours was a hint. The Septa survived however and would remain there to educate Sansa as Lady Stark dictated.

Brandon had a smug face the next day, whether from the Sept destruction or Lord Tully's stiffness and ashen face the next he didn't know.

And wasn't the tongue-lashing and threats given to Lord Tully grand. A lord paramount was being threatened because he insulted a bastard? No, not a bastard. A Stark. He thought proudly.

He would miss Robb and Sansa though, but he was going to family too and it wasn't as if he was going forever right?

Even the rest of the party was treating him respectfully although some of them looked highborn themselves. When he voiced that they all laughed.

"The entire north owes its new might and wealth to Lord Stark. The North was a barren land before he was born. He gave us new means of farming for ourselves that we produce as much as food as the Reach. The new mines are pouring as much gold as the westerlands and our fleet is the most powerful fleet in the Known World. Our steel is the best quality in the world and as cheap as bread. No smallfolk sleeps hungry or cold and they adore him for it. The lords are filling their coffers because of him and they almost worship him, and you're his nephew." One of the men said.

"And I'm sure that whoever disrespects you would suffer in a way that would make a Bolton cringe," another remarked as the rest nodded fearfully.

Just what kind of person was his cousin? He was almost the same age as him and he hasn't done anything worth mentioning while his cousin had numerous accomplishments. That resolved him to

As soon as he passed another cliff his eyes fell on a grand white castle that looked nothing like Moat Cailin, more like a castle fit for a king. It was absolutely huge and held a powerful presence that shook him slightly. He couldn't take his eyes off it until someone nudged him.

"Welcome to Winterfell, lad." Jory said from beside him.

Author Note; All characters are aged 2 years in this fic than Game of Thrones. If you spot any differences, please remember that this is a fanfiction and treat it as such.

Please suggest what Jon should grow up to be? If a lord, what fief should he hold?

I am going to amend numbers in the previous chapters. For the record, the North has a population of almost 17-18 million and could raise and arm between 150-200 thousand levies due to their new mass steel manufacture.

Cover by captnarrri on deviantart.

Looking for a beta!

Lord of the Grey.


	9. Chapter 9

Fapman; I will probably go over the earlier chapters to add a semblance of realism to the numbers and descriptions. Lord Tully refused to offer support in the rebellion before his daughters were married off to two Lord Paramounts. Therefore, he's kind of hated by the key players of the rebellion.

Mohammed Alzo; It's highly unlikely that Brandon is going to let anyone be the king of anything in the future. But it's still thousands of words away to tell.

For the rest, Thank you for you reviews and suggestions!

Winterfell.

Following the Greyjoy rebellion and their subsequent destruction, I made sure to never be caught unawares again. The Westerlands had a standing army of 30,000 because they could afford it. Still, the westerlander army deployed the same ridiculous tactics of this medieval world and didn't have an inkling of professionalism. All plans go down the drain as soon as they launch and by then it's just one big melee contest.

I ordered the building of 7 large training facilities 10 miles north Winterfell. They were arranged as a square with a large empty area in the middle. A moat was dug outside each facility and all the camps were identical in layout but different in their design and names. The base was divided into 4 parts with wide main roads dividing them clearly. The north east section held the supply base. The North West section held the armory and whatever artillery that wasn't placed on the walls. The south west section held various the halls and various buildings that served day to day life. The base was placed in the epicenter of the facility with barracks in the south east section.

Each headquarter housed the General of the legion and his 8 commander, each commander was responsible for a thousand troops. The thousand troops were further divided into groups of 200 with a captain each and each captain had 5 officers that were responsible for 40 men each. To ensure a sense of uniformity in the legions and crush the morbid sense of personal glory and honor. Every soldier would burn all his personal belongings and retain a new armor that would be identical for the rest of the legion. The army had to eat together. Live in identical beds, basically establishing that he was a part of a greater thing and he didn't matter.

Any army which would be split up by stragglers at the back or soldiers trundling along at differing speeds would be vulnerable to attack, thus the 8,000 troops in each legion would be trained to march in 200 units and do physical exercises including; running, long and high jumping and carrying heavy packs.

Next in line, after the training for marching and fitness, came the training of handling weapons. For this they primarily used wickerwork shields and wooden swords. Both the shields and the swords were made to standards which made them twice as heavy as the original weapons.

The dummy weapons were at first employed against heavy wooden stakes, about six foot high, rather than against fellow soldiers. Against these wooden stakes the soldier trained the various moves, strikes and counter-strikes with the sword.

After each soldier has perfected the sword, they moved on to train with spears of different sizes. All the training weapons were twice the size of the real weapon to increase endurance. Each soldier had a personal armor, javelin, bastard sword a dagger and a 20 ft. long pike that was their responsibility and they were punished quite heavily if anything happened to it.

They were drilled on the Macedonian Phalanx, the Testudo, and the Wedge formations relentlessly until they could drill half asleep without breaking formation.

Each of the legions had personal builders, cooks, smiths and carpenters that were enlisted in the camp for the entire period of training and also relentlessly drilled alongside the soldiers to set up cannons, siege weapons and camp.

The seven legions were called The Blizzards, The Guardians of the North, Winter Troops, The Knights of Walpurgis, The War hammers, The Northern Wraiths and my pride and joy and the best of the seven legions, the Death Eaters.

5 of the bases held almost 9,000 – around 8,000 soldiers and +/- 1,000 builders, cooks, smiths and generally non-military officers. The sixth base contained only 5,000 cavalry, and the Death Eaters had 1,500 soldiers dedicated to infiltrating bases and cities, guerilla warfare and generally harassing other enemies.

Each base had loyalty and performance enchantment wards, poured nutrients and weak loyalty and dedication potions in their food to make sure the soldiers were fit as soon as possible and completely loyal to me. They were paid thrice as much as any other smallfolk earned in any part of the North and had to be in service for 15 years. I had established a military court system, where the soldiers are punished by their commanders and punishments were quite harsh. Each legion had to serve on the war manning all the castles alternatingly and serve as a sellsword company in Essos to provide money and to teach them the harshness of the winter in the True North and the hotness of Essos and Dorne.

In peace times the base was completely enclosed and troops were allowed outside for a week every 3 months and 3 weeks every year to build a bond between the soldiers. They were paid twice as much as smallfolk and consisted mostly of young men, bastards and third and fourth sons.

Jon was ensnared with the military and I had to once again deter him from signing up at 10 and instead delegated some lordly duties to him as to make him feel a bit welcomed. Uncle Ben would arrive around the middle of next year, so it was just me and him for now. We sparred frequently and I was impressed to be honest, the boy was born to wield a sword. I added nutrients and reaction enhancing potions to his diet to perfect his physique and reaction time, and personally drilled him on different forms relentlessly, which he definitely appreciated. I was building up my own little killing machine with absolute loyalty.

292 AC, Azkaban, The North.

I was heading towards the newly established city under Ramsgate. It was a made of scattered small island and was already growing to become one of the biggest cities in the North due to it being the main harbor in the east. It held a queer similarity to Braavos, including the slight chilliness of the weather.

Already bridges were all over the isles linking them together, with settlements and buildings built all over them. It was mainly a trading coastal city so different stalls and areas of the city were established to sell wares and trade different merchandise. A Railroad was established in the last isle which was directly connected to mainland. The castle was almost finished; I was going to give it to Uncle Benjen as soon as he returns so that he can be the new Sealord of Azkaban. The isles were like Azkaban in its chilly foggy weather. I searched all over Westeros for dementors or heliopaths but sadly failed, so I had settled with naming it Azkaban instead in memory of one of the greatest magical fortresses ever built.

The real reason I was here though, was the opening of the Iron Bank of the North. Lords and Ladies from all over Westeros were invited and most of them showed up. The king couldn't bother to show up however, the Hand of the King managed to escape his duties for a while and arrive.

Tywin Lannister ofcourse had to make an arrival and see if he could snag himself a seat on the council but fortunately, only men of the North were allowed membership. Other notable appearances were Mace Tyrell and his mother from the Reach, Oberyn Martell from Dorne, all the North's Lords and other various minor lords. Hoster Tully showed up as well, I truly didn't expect him to be here after my earlier disrespect last year; it must've been too good of an opportunity to miss though.

A large amount of representatives from the Iron Bank arrived as well. The real staff has arrived almost a month ago and has already set-up everything. This was purely ceremonial.

After the small feast in the main room of the bank was finished I stood up and addressed the crowd, "Lords and Ladies of Westeros, Distinguished Magisters and Lords of Essos, It gives me great pleasure to extend welcome you in the first branch of the Iron Bank in Westeros. It is an opportune time to close gaps between Essos and Westeros and strive to build a better world together."

I waited for the applause to end and continued, "No matter how much we can do by ourselves on either our continents, whether it is through trade or development, it is never enough. In a spirit of true cooperation, we in the north are proud to present the first Essosi-cultured city in Westeros and the biggest trading center in the world, which would help link our continents even further."

The applause grew once more as I sat down besides the Iron Bank representatives and eventually died down to chattering between the lords and Essosi representatives.

It was grand, I spared no expense and went all out in providing for the opening and had to turn away a number of marriage offers. The way people bartered away their daughters in exchange for gold and prestige disgusted me. I saw Mace Tyrell approaching me and held back a sigh, "Lord Tyrell, a pleasure to have you in the North."

"The pleasure is all mine," The man said jovially, "The North has truly changed a lot in the short amount of time you've been running it."

"Thank you," I answered succinctly

"And the amount of steel and those wondrous railroads, wherever did you get all that steel? It must have cost a fortune." The man continued without hearing me. "We were going to offer to host the Iron Bank in Highgarden of course but you managed to snag the opportunity."

I raised an eyebrow, "Were you really?"

"Oh- Oh yes of cour-" "Do shut up Mace, the longer you speak the longer Lord Stark's opinion go further down." His mother interjected from the sideline

"Lady Olenna, a pleasure to have you here." I said taking her hand and kissing her knuckles.

"I'm sure it is. Mace, why don't you go check on Garlan over there, he was looking for you."

Mace fumbled at being addressed, "Did he now? I apologize, Lord Stark I have to go check on my son." He sighed, "Nothing seems to work in the Reach or in my family without my personal input. I'm sure you understand everything about the burdens of being a lord, eh?"

"Yes, of course." I said with a small smile as the man patted my shoulder heavily.

Olenna waited until Mace was out of eyesight and said, "You're not quite how I imagined."

"And how did you imagine me?" I said, not looking at her.

"I expected an ugly little boy with a book in his nose. Instead I find a rude young man who doesn't look all smart like the stories said he was."

"If it were stories that mattered, I would've expected your son to be a valiant veteran of war, basically another Robert Baratheon."

She waved me off and said, "Mace is as an oaf who has competent lords under him that do all the fighting. He's convinced that by being the only undefeated lord of the rebellion that he's a war hero now. Whereas Randyl Tarly was responsible for the victory and all Mace did was feast in front Stormend's"

"I'd love to hear about your son's accomplishments all day but I'm sure you came here for a reason."

She raised an eyebrow, "I haven't even reached the story of how my husband Luthor fell off a cliff. You're no fun at all."

I smiled, "As your son said, lordly burdens leave me no time for fun."

She snorted, "Of course it does. Now, how did you get the Iron Bank to build a branch in the North?"

I looked at her amusedly, "Annoyed that the Reach couldn't broker an agreement with the Iron Bank are you?"

"Westrosi kings and lords have been trying to get the Iron Bank to establish a branch at their kingdoms for years and failed. I doubt that they would suddenly agree to do it with Mace."

I hummed noncommittally, "Yet, they agreed to establish a branch here in the North."

"That they did, in under a decade you managed to make the North in to the biggest trading center of the world, the richest kingdom of Westeros and self-sufficient in terms of food and meat." She narrowed her eyes, "How exactly did you manage to do that?"

I blinked, "You're not really expecting me to answer, are you?"

"Not really, but it was worth a try."

"Perhaps it was. Good day, lady Olenna." I raised my glass and walked away.

"Lord Stark. I'm Lord Paxter Redwyne." A burly man said extending his hand, " A marvelous invention those cannons of yours, it would be sung by bards for decades to come. Why my own victory against the Iron fleet at Fair Isle was…."

"Excuse me Lord Redwyne, I have to go check on my cousin" I interrupted him and walked away, not waiting for him to reply.

Jon looked distinctly uncomfortable in the party, trying to look confident as he could and failing miserably. His face brightened when he saw me approaching and I smiled reassuring him, "Don't worry, it gets less boring by time and you learn to just go on with the flow."

He nodded and said, "It's just that I've never been in something like this. Even in the past, Lady Stark would make sure that I'm out of sight whenever we would have a small feast or guests."

"And now you're being paraded around as a lord. You're a Stark, and it should've always been like this." I shrugged and continued," Legend says that a few decades ago, the lord of the north at this time, Lord Brandon once called a wildling named Bael a coward. To take revenge of this affront and prove his courage, Bael climbed the Wall, took the kingsroad and entered Winterfell. There, he sang until midnight for the lord. Impressed by his skills as a singer, Lord Stark asked him what he wanted as a reward, and Bael only asked for the most beautiful flower blooming in Winterfell's gardens. As the blue winter rose were just blooming, Brandon Stark accepted to offer him one. But the following morning, the single, virgin daughter of the lord had disappeared, and in her bed was the blue winter rose.

Lord Brandon sent the members of the Night's Watch looking for them beyond the Wall, but neither Bael nor the girl were found. Brandon took to his bed and the Stark line was on the verge of extinction, when one day the girl was back in her room, holding at her breast an infant: they had actually never left Winterfell, staying hidden in the crypts. The bastard of Bael and the daughter of Brandon eventually became the new Lord Stark of Winterfell."

Jon sat ensnared with the story and listening attentively, "Now, what does that story teach us?"

He straightened up and said, "That even a bastard can have honor and become a lord."

I spat my drink," What? No, of course not." As his face fell down I amended, "Oh you most likely are going to be lord and have as much as honor" I manly-giggled, "as you want in the future. But the point is that… actually the story is pretty much pointless, but it made you feel better, didn't it?"

He stared blankly at me and just walked off without saying anything.

Such disrespect from the youth...

Jon Arryn's POV.

Jon hasn't been to the North for over 30 years, since the ending of the War of the Ninepenny Kings to be exact. The war had been a bloody business but from it, he had emerged with a lifelong friend in Rickard Stark who had later sent his own son to him for fostering. The North was always being preached as a cold barren place where savages lived by the septons but Jon knew better than listening to them, the North was a hard place to live in; the cold was almost always there even during the summers therefore, the people lived a hard life.

But in the past decade, reports varied from the North. While the spider couldn't actually provide solid information about what was the cause of all of this, one name kept popping up in all their talks. Brandon Stark.

So, filled with curiosity, I managed to leave King's Landing for a while and head north for the opening of the Iron Bank of the North, and wasn't that a surprise. For years, Lords tried to lure the Iron Bank to establish a branch in their domains to get the prestige and wealth from having the biggest bank in the world at their kingdoms. Ned's nephew must have either paid them a ridiculous amount of money to attract them north, or he gave those benefits that no one else could, both worrying prospects.

I elected to take the Kingsroad instead of taking a ship to the new isles of Azkaban to see a look of the so called developments of the northern kingdom. I was surprised that instead of some minor developments, the North has entirely changed. The lands were vast and as green as the Reach. Peasants owned steel plows and various inventions that were never seen beyond the neck, all of them wearing wool clothes of high quality and looking more like minor lords and knights than smallfolk.

As soon as we entered Northen territory we were directed to a small building that had some sort of metallic rods going through it. They called it railroads and were operated by a carriage drawn by horse. The carriage could go all day, way faster than normal than normal horse-drawn carriages and carry four times as much. I almost thought I was back at my tower at the Red Keep midway to Azkaban. The entire journey was so smooth that you could sleep through the ride.

Those bathhouses that were available in almost every town were also ingenious and a reprieve for my poor nose. There was no smell of shit anywhere, only the rugged beauty and smell of trees in the north.

Arriving at Azkaban, I thought it would be some buildings sporadically. Instead, I found buildings made of smooth walls with no sight of stones anywhere. A Large settlement with as much merchants stalls and houses as Lannisport. The harbor was made just like Braavos and the enormous trading fleet docked proudly loading their cargo.

How they managed to build this much smooth wall buildings in no time was truly baffling, I heard some foreign sailors talking about liquid rock or something like that.

That's why when I saw a boy that looked exactly like Ned in his youth walk away from another young lord, I took the opening.

He looked surprised by my appearance and smiled, "Lord Arryn, a pleasure to finally meet the man that raised my uncle."

A few ladies passed by, tittering and giggling at the young lord at which he smiled at politely which elicited more giggles.

I ignored them however, "Ahh, Young Ned. He was such a remarkable young boy at his age, much easier to deal with than Robert now."

He laughed, "It must get hard effectively running seven kingdoms."

I nodded, "Will you walk with me?"

As we walked through the different hallways, we reached a balcony and got seated comfortably, "Would you like a drink, Lord Arryn?"

"No thank you, I don't tend to drink a lot; especially your northern drinks, too strong for my liking."

"Perhaps I could interest you with some Ice tea then?"

I frowned, "I'm afraid I've never heard of that drink before."

He smiled and gestured for a servant to bring some of that drink while we chatted.

"It's remarkable the amount of wealth the North has gained in the past decade." I opened. "The tax increase is also a pleasant surprise."

He nodded, "The lands of the North are as large as the rest of the kingdoms. It took us quite a lot of money and knowledge to spare before it showed promise."

"But to this extent?" I asked,

He replied, "With the proper knowledge, anything could be possible. I had to spare hundreds of thousands of dragons to open the mines and make the steel plows you've seen on your way here. I took almost 3 years to show profit and by now it is definitely worth it, don't you agree?

The servant laid a glass cup filled with smooth, semi-solid white foam along with another cup that held my ice tea.

I raised an eyebrow, "And what is that, another northern delicacy?"

"It's called ice cream, try it please" He encouraged.

I take the first spoonful and the cream immediately melts on my taste buds. I savor the sweet taste and could feel some crunchy nuts in it. It was sweet and refreshing at the same time.

The boy looks at me with a knowing expression and gestured for me to take a sip from the drink. I had forgotten all thoughts and plans that I had regarding the new northern lords and asked excitedly, "How do you make this stuff?"

"That's a secret of the north, I'm afraid." He said smiling, "But I was hoping to arrange with you the opening of a few ice houses and a northern trading center in the crownlands."

"Your ice cream and ice tea are delicious I must admit," I wiped my mouth, "But what the hell would we do with ice?"

"Chilled drinks, constant cooling in the hot temperature of the south, cool a fever or make some ice cream," He answered with a grin, "The biggest benefit however, is preserving food and meat. By using refrigerators cooled with ice, you could preserve food for…."

I droned on and on about my inventions and the benefits of Ice in the south and by the end of our chat, the Hand of the King had given me his patronage for the first Ice House in the South.

15 years later it became a common saying that the North shits gold, the Lannisters were entirely forgotten in favor of Lord Stark.

Winterfell, The North

The opening festival was a booming success. Trade alliances were made with many lords and a lot of them opened accounts after seeing our impregnable vaults. The ice trading business garnered the attention of many lords and magisters after being presented with chilled drinks and ice cream. Soon ice houses would be all over Essos and Westeros and would provide us with as much gold as the mines and farmlands combined.

I sucked up to the Hand of the King as much as I could. We talked about a place on the small council in the future and I agreed. The North was now the power house of Westeros and everyone in the party knew it.

Uncle Benjen has finally returned, filling the whorehouses to the brim. He gently rebuffed me when I suggested that he becomes the Sealord of Azkaban and said he would focus on his newly found business until I reach my majority. For now, Azkaban would have to be ruled by me directly.

On a happier note, Jon managed to find 3 direwolf pups in the woods beside Winterfell, I bonded with mine immediately and named her Nagini. Uncle Ben got one and jon took the other. They would grow to be the size of horses in the future and I immediately fell in love with her. Having direwolves as companions was a great boon in the future. It was our family's sigil and it looked frighteningly cool to walk beside a large wolf.

I found Roose Bolton waiting for us when we arrived. I had delayed dealing with him as long as I could.

"Lord Bolton, thank you for arriving here as soon as possible."

He bowed his head and gestured to a boy around 13 years old, "This is Ramsay, my bastard."

The boy visibly bristled at the reminder of his status and I replied, "This is Jon Snow, my cousin."

Ramsay's eye widened, "You bring your uncle's bastard with you to meetings?"

Roose whispered, "Ramsay, don't make me rue the day I raped your mother."

"He's a Stark regardless of his last name, and you're a Bolton and your father's heir." I said, I still got pissed for bastards whom were reviled and ignored by their fathers. My own shitty father as Tom Riddle comes to mind.

The boy seemed to have brightened visibly at that as Bolton looked intrigued, "Perhaps we should talk inside, my lord?"

We entered inside my solar and sat around a table. After exchanging pleasantries for a while, I started, "The reason I invited you here was to determine the suitability of your son Ramsay as an heir."

He nodded faintly, "And what have you determined my lord?"

I had taken a peek inside Ramsay's mind and was surprised to see that it was arranged as torture room like Bella's. Ramsay was a genuine psychopath. He was sadistic, savage, wild, and completely capable of committing unspeakable atrocities without remorse, simply for pure amusement. I was highly intrigued with him and almost called him Bellatrix a couple of times.

I ate a piece of steak and answered, "He will remain here at Winterfell for 2 years where he will train with the Death Eaters and be educated with our Maester's."

Roose's eyes narrowed, "And why can't he be educated at the Dreadfort with me?"

"So that he can gain a better understanding of the North and our new techniques; The North has developed rapidly and while some of the Lords have adapted, others haven't. The new generation of Lords will have to be acquainted intimately with all the changes so that we remain the most powerful kingdom in the future," I lied. In truth, I wanted him here to pour loyalty potions down his throat and alter his psyche a bit; temper his sadistic tendencies and instead of torturing and committing atrocities for pure amusement and fun, he would be personal attack dog with a leash.

That and Roose was going to die as soon as possible. For now, he was content with his new found wealth and seemingly loyal to me but seeds of treachery were there and I would love to be able to rule the North without having to constantly look behind my back. Having a new generation of insanely loyal lords of the Dreadfort was also extremely beneficial.

"If he proves promise, he would be legitimized and will officially become the heir of Dreadfort," I added nonchalantly as Ramsay's eyes were wide as saucers and full of gratitude and worship.

Hello my sweet Bellatrix.

Author Note; I totally forgot about the Manderly's following the Faith of the Seven. So like any good author would, I will completely ignore it.

Also, for those who haven't figured it out yet, this is a ridiculously overpowered Mary-Sue crack fic. Basically any Harry Potter/ Game of thrones crossover is a Mary Sue. Inserting a character named Harry and ridiculously limiting his powers doesn't make any sense. They're wizards in a medieval world.

For those who complained about the sun going supernova way too early; this isn't a documentary, it's a fanfiction. Just assume that Death was being a jerk or that wizards affected the universe as whole for some sort of fuck up.

I'm ridiculously terrible with numbers; I'll probably go back and edit them once I've settled on a constant number but for now, assume that the North has a population of 15-20 million.

So far Danaerys and Arianne are in the lead, please vote if you haven't on the poll.


	10. Chapter 10

293 AC

After having to deal with everything personally in the North for almost a decade, I was finally free!

I managed to install various guilds all run by a follower of mine that took care of whatever their specialty was. I wouldn't normally trust anyone to do anything without my careful eye looking over them, but these men were the masters of their fields and completely loyal to me. I didn't need to worry about corruption or incompetence at all.

Uncle Benjen was left as the Lord of Winterfell in my absence. In truth, he had an army of Maesters to assist him in everything and would only intervene when it requires his personal attention. It was unlikely, given how efficient my followers were. His whorehouses were the best in all seven kingdoms. Whores were treated better in our brothels than with their husbands. Sanitation, anti-pregnancy and healing potions were provided to all the whores, guards were stationed everywhere to ensure they weren't abused. Uncle Benjen was also prone to disappearing for hours in one or another brothel. He was truly taking his newly found business with vigor and enthusiasm.

Nagini has grown to the size of a pony by now, while Ghost and Quicksilver –Jon and Uncle Benjen's wolves- were almost half her size. She was the Alpha of her pack and made sure that the little squirts knew it.

I also had another puppy following me around in the form of Ramsay Snow. He was actually pretty decent company. Don't get me wrong, he was a psychotic sick son of a bitch. But now he wouldn't do anything without me explicit order. He and Jon took to sparring and hanging out with each other, and found a friend in each other. They normally gave sage advice and wisdom – Well Jon did, Ramsay's solution to anything was to flay it.

That's why I had decided that the three of us were going on a trip!

We decided against going with a large party, it was too much of a hassle. It was just the three of us with enough provisions to last us a couple of weeks, we were going to have to hunt for whatever else we needed. I also ordered full armor and a sword made for my companions. I really wanted to get in the mood of a couple of medieval worthless muggles traveling around the seven kingdoms, so magic would be used scarcely.

So with everything packed and our goodbyes said, I climbed on my silver stallion, Shadowfax, and started our journey. We decided against touring the North, we lived there after all and could go any time. So we were going to take the King's road until the Crossroads Inn and head east towards the vale. As soon as we finish our tour of the mountains and visit the Eyrie, we were going to head back west down the Highroad all the way through the Riverlands to Casterly Rock. We planned on staying for a while in the westerlands and take a ship from lannisport to Old Oak in the reach. From there, we were going to pass through Highgarden, the citadel and all the way to the Arbor.

Thankfully, I had enough time to finally see my mother's family. So we would take a ship to Starfall and from there, tour the deserts of Dorne all the way to Sunspear where we would take another ship to Storm's end and from there to King's Landing –our final destination.

The trip would take almost 16-18 moons but we were young men who wanted to see the world, so no one objected.

It was also a good opportunity to place wardstones and map the castles, not that anyone needed to know that.

Palisade Village, The Vale.

I ducked beneath a sword and cut through the chest of the bandit, I blocked a blow from one behind and struck the sword through the throat of another. I could see Jon and Ramsay facing off three at a time and thoroughly smashing them. This was getting a bit ridiculous. The moment we left the paved and concrete roads of the North and entered the river lands we were ambushed no less than a dozen times by bandits. I regretted that I didn't put a notice-me-not charm on us but the thrill was intoxicating.

"That's all of them," Jon said as he sheathed his sword.

Ramsay stood with a maniacal grin on his face looking thoroughly exasperated and thrilled with the fight and covered with blood. I had to beat out the ridiculous psych of toying with his enemies and instead he was a more focused Bellatrix.

"Well let's go on then," I said, wiping off the blood on my sword "There's an inn down there at the village. We'll stay for the night and then we could go on our way."

Ghost and Nagini trailed behind us, scaring away any citizens of the village.

I pushed the door of the tavern and settled in a dark corner and was soon approached by a slim serving wench with dirty blonde hair. She was missing a couple of teeth and showing some cleavage. I grimaced at the sight of Ramsay looking at her lecherously, "Some fried fish with a flagon of beer for me."

She nodded and went away to get our orders as I sat listening to the different conversations around the tavern. All the talk was somewhat related to the mountain clans and their frequent raids. I could probably talk with Lord Arryn and deal with it somehow. I would need something in return of course; I didn't do charity to rich lords.

The fish was bland and excessively salty, the beer was sour and barely had a drop of alcohol in it, but I had to shrug it off and eat. I wanted the medieval experience and here I was getting it.

The door was suddenly opened by 5 newcomers carrying swords and looking around suspiciously, one of the louts raised his sword in the direction of our bloody armor and swords and screamed, "You're the ones that killed Arvlan and his gang, you bastard."

I smiled evilly and said, "Are you sure you want to do this,"

"Fuck you!" He screamed as he approached us with his sword raised.

"Nagini," I whispered in a Bolton-ish voice, "Kill."

I threw a dagger through the eye of the first approaching one while Nagini mauled the others, all which happened with Ramsay staring unblinking at the serving wench.

I tossed another chair towards the direction of the other two, giving enough time for Ghost to attack them without getting hurt.

I took another bite of the fish, "You might want to clean that up," I suggested to the shaking cook.

He nodded hesitantly and went on to do that, while the tavern wench was now looking at Jon with a worshiping gaze. Ramsay looked sullen and angry towards Jon and muttered, "Why are you the only ones that get their family sigils following them around?"

"You want to cart around a flayed man everywhere you go?" I asked,

"Why not?" He asked angrily.

I wrinkled my nose, "Can you imagine the smell?"

Jon squeaked, "It's wrong! Torrhen Stark illegalized flaying in the North 4 centuries ago."

I nodded at Jon, "That too."

Soon the atmosphere changed back into normal, as if 4 men weren't just brutally murdered in it.

"I am going to bed, see you tomorrow!"

Ramsay muttered a goodbye distractedly while flirting with another wench while Jon sat grooming Ghost in the corner.

Hopefully, the next day would be less exciting.

I woke up to the dreadful sound of birds chirping outside, I lifted my head from the pillow and managed to pull myself out of bed to another 'cheerful' day. After taking shower, I quickly got dressed in my armor and went to Ramsay and Jon's room.

I entered the room to find two beds joined together. Now as a wizard from the future I didn't have much prejudice against gays, but I really didn't think Ramsay was Jon's type. I cleared my throat and thankfully found out that the sprawling shaggy black hair on the bed was the wench's not Jon's. She smiled a toothless smile, "Can I help you milord?"

"Whose 'zat?" a muffled voice came from under the furs.

"Ramsay?"

"Brandon!" Ramsay shouted with a smile getting up, with not a slightest regard towards his nudity.

I looked down, then up and sighed, "Where's Jon, Ramsay?"

He frowned, "He said he's going to find somewhere to stay for the night."

I raised an eyebrow, "All our money is with me…"

He shrugged and smiled at the wench, "Now, where were we yesterday?"

I shook my head with an amused smile and went down the stairs. "Have you seen our third companion anywhere?" I asked the cook.

"Aye, wanted another room but had no money; so I told'em to sleep in the stables."

I smiled tightly, "How thoughtful of you, please prepare a roasted duck and 3 beers for us."

He nodded as I went outside to where a shabby building stood; the smell was horrible, full of dung and flies. Thankfully, I found Jon sleeping on Ghost in the corner with his armor still on.

I nudged him gently with my foot, shaking off the flies. He remained sleeping peacefully so I kicked him swiftly in the ribs that woke both him and ghost with a yelp of pain. "what the fuck?" he grumbled sleepily "It wasn't enough you kicked me out of your room you piece of – Cousin!" he exclaimed happily "it's time to leave?"

"Yes," I answered, "Interesting sleeping arrangement."

He rubbed his stiff neck, "Well Ramsay kicked me out."

"Why didn't you wake me up?" I said frowning, "I could've rented you another room."

"I did, you threw a dagger at me."

"Oh," I said softly, "Well I'll make sure to leave you with enough money next time."

He nodded gratefully, "Let's go then."

We made our way back to the tavern. As soon as I passed through the door, I felt a sword pressing against my throat, "Now, you're all arrested for poaching and killing a knight of the Vale, lads." A gruff voice said.

Merlin's saggy tits.

Sky Cells, The Eyrie.

"My name is Jon Snow, the son of lord stark. Lady Catelyn, the lord's hand good-sister, absolutely abhors me. She – "

"Jon, if they could hear you the first sixty two times they would've answered by now." I said irritably.

He sighed softly and slid down the wall, "Well what are you going to do about this?"

"We'll wait till someone calls us for trial, assuming that they're going to give us one." I looked over to where Ramsay was sitting in a fetal position with his eyes closed tightly, "You're okay, Ramsay?"

He didn't answer, so Jon approached him frowning, "Ramsay?"

Still nothing, so he shook his shoulder slightly and Ramsay screamed in fright.

"Woah- woah calm down. What the fuck is wrong is with you?"

He breathed in and out repeatedly and shook his head and remained silent.

Jon smiled, "You're afraid of heights, aren't you?"

Ramsay just glared at him and Jon broke out laughing, "The fearless Bolton bastard is afraid of heights!"

Normally, Ramsay would've beaten anyone who called him a bastard but given our current predicament, he couldn't even move from his position.

I couldn't really blame him. The Arryns keep the only dungeon in the Seven Kingdoms where the prisoners are welcome to escape at will – by jumping to their deaths. Many prisoners, driven mad by the cold and howling wind, commit suicide rather than remain imprisoned. They are particularly infamous; they are merely shelves on the side of the mountain's sheer cliffs, left open to the cold sky.

The floor slopes slightly and the cell was miserably small; five feet away, where a wall would be in a proper dungeon, the floor ends and sky begins. Six hundred feet below is the waycastle sky.

I had no reason to worry of course, I could fly. The others were not so lucky, so we were here awaiting our judgment.

The cell door opened, revealing our lovely jailor, Mord.

Mord is a large man, slow-witted brute, who's fond of telling us how we are going to fall out of the cells to our deaths. He has small, dark eyes, rotting brown teeth and the left side of his face has a scar and has a large belly and thick, stubby-fingered hands. A delightful person, slightly quiet though.

"Come, The heir is going to judge you."

I smiled, "How lovely."

As Jon and I went towards the cell door, Ramsay stayed glued to the floor. "Come on Ramsay, we're going out of the cell.

Ramsay looked from our position at the cell door to the sky and then back and shook his head fearfully.

"Ramsay, please get up," I said exasperatedly.

Unfortunately, Mord wasn't a particularly patient man and he dragged Ramsay away from his position where Ramsay remained unmoving. I looked over at Jon and shrugged, we both moved to help Mord.

"Nonononono, please don't. I swear I'll do anything, just please don't." Ramsay muttered over and over as we literally dragged him on the floor.

"IT'S 3 FOOT TO THE BLOODY DOOR." Jon shouted.

After 5 minutes of dragging him towards the door, we finally managed to pass through the door and dropped him.

Ramsay pushed his head from his fetal position to look around, when he found that we weren't in the sky cell anymore he checked himself for any missing body parts. When he didn't find any, he stood cheerfully and said in a baffled tone, "What are you standing doing over there? Freedom is this way buddies."

Even Mord stood confused for a bit as Ramsay walked away towards the stairs.

Not even Bellatrix was that crazy.

The High Hall, The Eyrie.

Harrold Hardyng, often called Harry the Heir was a gallant handsome young man. He was the heir presumptive of Lord Jon Arryn and would ascend to rule of the Vale as "Harrold Arryn" should Lord Jon die without an heir.

He was also a dunderhead.

"You're here to answer for your crimes, do you wish to confess?" He said in an imperious voice.

I rolled my eyes, "Confess to what crimes exactly?"

"Illegal hunting in lands of the vale, without asking for permission from the lord of the vale," "You're a brat who's playing lord." I interrupted.

He glared at me and continued, "You are also tried for the killing noble knights of the Vale."

"Would you like me to do it now? Or would you like a few moments to compose an epitaph?" I interrupted once more

Before he could offer a rebuke, Jon said in an amused voice, "Those were knights? I guess you stupid Andals name anyone a knight these days."

He gasped, "You're from the mountain clans."

I looked at him blankly, looking down at our apparel. Even the high steward was getting second ideas from the way he was looking at the boy.

"Are you fucking daft boy?" I asked.

"Well, why did you call us Andals with that tone then huh? Only the mountain clans call us andals. "

I said in a bland voice, "How astute. You truly astonish me with your gifts of deduction, gifts only mortal could possess. One can only imagine how hard it must be to be the recipient of such gifts. You're a true fucking light for humanity."

Some of the knights and lords laughed and before I could resume my tirade, the door opened and a gruff voice said, "Announcing the Lord of the Eyrie, Warden of the East and defender of the Vale, Lord Jon Arryn."

I straightened up and waited for the man to arrive.

As soon as he entered, the man took one look at me, stood gawping and shouted with spittle at Harrold, "What in the seven hells are you doing, boy?"

"Great-uncle Jon," the boy said smiling, "I was just judging that riff-raff for poaching on our lands."

He stood gawping not comprehending for a few moments, "You're judging the Warden of the North for poaching?"

"Wa-Warden of the North?" The boy squeaked questioningly.

"Yes you oaf. Ser Vardis, please release Lord Stark and his companions from their chains."

As the head of the household guard darted to release my chains first, I stood looking smugly towards the arrogant boy cherishing his paling face in my memory.

"Lord Stark, I profusely apologize for this misunderstanding." Jon said as he extended his hand.

I rubbed my sore wrists, looking directly at Harrold, "No need, Lord Arryn. I understand the follies of youth."

The boy bristled angrily and Jon replied, "He's going to be sent back to Lady Waynwood immediately, he's clearly not yet ready to assume his duties."

Harrold whined, "But Uncle Jon…"

Jon raised his hand, "No, your incompetence and brashness almost started a war. I don't know what High Steward Royce was thinking anyway." He said directing his gaze at the High Steward.

"My lord," Royce said hesitantly, "You must understand that his claims were simply too outrageous. The Lord of the North traveling alone in the Vale? Highly unusual."

I moved in to save the poor man some face, "It's alright, my lord. The High Steward was simply carrying out his duties."

Arryn nodded at me and asked, "If you don't mind me asking, what were you and your companions doing alone without guard in the Vale?"

"We've elected to take a tour in the Seven Kingdoms alone and leave the matters of the North in the hands of Uncle Benjen for a while."

"Ahh, the enthusiasm and arrogance of being young." Jon said with a smile.

I smiled back, "If you don't mind, I would like to send a letter by your ravens to Winterfell and go on our way."

"Of course, but you should stay here for a small feast at the very least."

I looked at Jon and Ramsay who shrugged, "We would be delighted to,"

"Once again, I must apologize for the terrible inconvenience earlier today." Nestor Royce said for the billionth time. "You must understand the hardships of ruling and being the heir of a kingdom at such a young age."

I smiled, "I'm afraid I don't, I've been effectively running the North ever since I took my chains from the citadel at five."

Harrold stabbed the venison on his plate and stubbornly refused to look up.

"Yes well…" Royce stood awkwardly gesturing with his hands.

A hoarse, smoky voice, "Oh come off it, Royce. No harm done."

I looked towards the direction of the voice where I found a tall lean man with grey hair, bushy eyebrows and bright blue eyes staring at me.

I looked inquisitively for a while until my eyes landed on the sigil on his armor; it had the traditional Tully colors of blue and red, but with a black fish instead of a white trout.

"Ser Brynden Tully," he said extending his hand.

"Ahh, Lord Tully's brother."

He raised his eyebrow, "You've met my brother?"

"Indeed, I had the pleasure o…" Ramsay interjected, "He thinks he's a cunt."

The voices at the table fell to a hush as I glared angrily at Ramsay. Brynden said with narrowed eyes, "Any particular reason?"

"He insulted me because I'm a bastard, so Cousin Brandon threatened him," Jon said happily looking at me. Were they always this stupid?

I looked back at Brynden and couldn't discern any emotion from his face so I shrugged.

I didn't expect him to boom out laughing, but he did and the tension thankfully diffused, "Aye, he could be a bit of an uptight prick."

"Any particular reason?" I asked.

"Cheeky," He harrumphed, "Bethany-fucking-Redwyne."

The knights and lords at the table rolled their eyes while Brynden continued, "Hoster wanted to marry me off to advance the family station," he said every word dripping with venom, "I refused, he called me the black goat of the Tully herd. I pointed out that our sigil was a fish, so I took the name "Blackfish", and took for my personal sigil the Tully emblem, but with a black trout jumping, instead of a silver trout to piss him off." He chuckled, "He still gets red in the face whenever he sees my sigil."

I laughed and asked, "Is that the reason you're here and not back at Riverrun?"

He nodded, "I'm the Knight of the Gate, the Bloody Gate."

"A great honor in the vale, being the Knight of the Gate," Jon said from behind us.

Jon asked, "Why are there too many gates in the Vale though? Isn't the Bloody Gate enough?"

"The hill tribes keep raiding us lad," One lord said with distaste, "Most of the other minor gates are to deter them from raiding."

"Perhaps you could help us with that problem," Jon said, "I heard you've dealt with the mountain clans in the North efficiently and they no longer raid or steal from any of the nearby villages."

I smiled tightly, "I would be delighted to." I really wasn't.

Mountains of the Vale.

"Are you sure, you're doing this right?" I asked, tired and dirty from trekking through the mountains for the past week.

"These tribes are more vicious than your mountain tribes. By walking in the valleys and mountains, we'll hopefully attract some of them." Brynden answered.

"We've been walking for days. Perhaps we're in the wrong place." Jon said.

I heard shuffling from a nearby bush with the sound of a twig breaking, "Perhaps not."

I laid down my sword and raised my hands in surrender, "We're here for a treaty with your respected mountain clans, and we mean no harm."

"I'm Shagga, son of Dolf of the Stonecrow,"A large hairy man, with deep voice and axes in both his hands said.

I replied, "We're here to negotiate a treaty on behalf the Lords of the Vale with your clans."

He broke out in laughter, "We don't negotiate with Andals,"

"Whoever said anything about Andals?" I asked, "I'm Brandon, son of Brandon of clan Stark," laughter broke out at my name which I ignored. "We're from the North, blood of the First men runs in my veins."

The man looked intrigued and asked, "You weakling? Blood of the First Men? Bah! Kill them and take their weapons and armor."

I whispered, "Weak?"

"Aye, you think you're strong little man?" Shagga replied.

I grinned at him, "How about this then, I'll fight you and if I win, you'll agree to talks with us."

"With your fancy little armor and fancy sword of course?" He asked sarcastically.

I removed my armor and said with a predatory smile, "Oh no, we're wrestling."

"… And then, the little man carried Shagga on his shoulders and threw him to the tree." Conn said laughing.

As you've concluded, I won. The rest of the clan laughed and readily invited us to dinner until they gather the rest of the clans at the show of power.

Jon and Ramsay ate happily through the meat as I said, "Aye, we the blood of the First Men are tough aren't we?"

The men boomed out laughing again, "Not like those fancy weak Andals with their shining armors."

The knights of the vale bristled and looked visibly annoyed but held back from answering as we were outnumbered almost 20 to 1.

"Well since the rest of the clan leaders are finally here, we can get on with the treaty."

The men fell silent, "We in the North care for the blood of the First Men, that's why we're proposing that instead of raiding nearby villages, we could build you permanent homes in the mountains that can endure the weather and air of the mountains, teach you to farm and fish for yourselves and the Vale could provide you with whatever you can't do yourselves instead of raiding and disrupting the peace."

Some of the clansmen nodded in acceptance while one said, "How would we know that you'll keep your words. You want us to trust the Andals?"

I asked baffled, "Whoever said anything of dealing with Andals?" as the knights looked angrily at me I continued, "You believe that every person's voice, regardless of gender, should be heard during councils. I respect that. So representatives from the North, the same ones dealing with our mountain clans, will come in your council to negotiate with you any further terms and take them to the lords of the Vale. No need to include any prissy Andals between us First Men, eh?" I said laughing.

"Aye, that sounds good. We'll be waiting for your representative, chieftain of the First Men."

I smiled at the new title and got up, "He'll be here in two weeks, I already sent them a message."

"Wait here for a second little chieftain," a dark little woman who looked more like a flat ugly boy with ears arranged as a necklace said, "Just because you beat Shagga, doesn't mean Chella doesn't want a fight too."

The clansmen roared in agreement as I sighed and took of my armor once more.

Fucking Jon Arryn.

At the Bloody Gate

"Once again, thank you so much for all you've done." Royce said.

"It was nothing."

"We hope you've enjoyed your stay at the Vale, my lord."

I replied, "Yes, the sky cells were surprisingly refreshing."

He stammered once more and Brynden said, "Just shut up Royce."

"Well lads, that's as far as we could go. Good luck on your journey,"

"Thank you, Ser Brynden," Jon said.

He waved him off, "Off you go then."

We rode back on the Highroad for a while, finally enjoying our freedom when I noticed something queer.

"This is your pouch of gold, is it, Ramsay?"

He hummed.

"You're quite sure of that, are you?"

He nodded.

"Then why does it have the name "Hoory ze Hair" knitted on it?"

He froze for a moment, "That's my nickname."

We broke out laughing.

Ramsay, never change.

Author Note; I hope you liked this chapter.

Next chapter features the Riverlands and I have absolutely no idea on what to write.

PLEASE REVIEW AND SUGGEST IDEAS FOR THE NEXT CHAPTER.

Many thanks,

Lord of the Grey.


	11. Chapter 11

Harrenhall, The Riverlands.

"I still don't get why you're so disappointed Jon," I said.

"I thought the Ruby Ford would be… you know more." He muttered.

I rolled my eyes, "You didn't expect to find some of Rhaegar's rubies there in the ford, did you?"

He blushed and the retort died in my mouth as a black monstrous castle appeared in the distance.

"Fuck me," Ramsay said as we laid our eyes on the ruined towers of Harrenhall.

The formerly largest castle in the Seven Kingdoms – Winterfell holds that place now, was a dark, ruinous place. Named after its builder, King Harren Hoare, Harrenhall was a gigantic castle that stood amidst vast tracts of green and fertile lands. When it has stood proudly in the past, now most of the towers were bent, lumped and cracked from the melting of the stone by Aegon Targaryen Dragon's.

It was foolish; Harren thought that he could starve out Aegon's and the riverlands armies while he remained behind his safe walls, so Aegon flew over with his dragons and burned them all in their tower.

After a long, bloody history of dead lords, House Whent, originally knights sworn to Harrenhal, became lords of the castle for their part in defeating the Lothstons.

The castle was also the place where everything started for the Rebellion.

The tourney of Harrenhal, said to be the greatest tourney of its time. During the tourney's opening ceremonies, fifteen-year-old Ser Jaime Lannister was admitted into the order of the Kingsguard. Although Jaime wanted to compete in the tourney the next day, King Aerys commanded him to return to King's Landing that night to guard Queen Rhaella and Prince Viserys.

However, the true tragedy sturck at the ending of the tourney; Rhaegar Targaryen was champion of the joust, defeating four knights of the Kingsguard, and in the end he chose Lyanna Stark as the new queen of love and beauty, placing a crown of blue winter roses in her lap. Angering the people of Dorne, his wife's people, and Robert Baratheon, Lyanna's betrothed.

A year later, the rebellion ended and the Targeryans lost their crowns, most dead or in exile.

All of that happened because one horny kid. I however disagreed; there was something weird in Rhaeger kidnapping Lyanna Stark.

It didn't matter right now though.

"Wanna check it from the inside?" Ramsay asked excitedly.

I looked over to the sun, "It's almost nightfall, perhaps we should head inside and request lodgings from Lady Whent."

"Fine with me," Jon shrugged. "Maybe we could climb to the top of the towers and see the view from upstairs."

Ramsay lost his excited face quickly and was replaced with a mask of horror, "Maybe we shouldn't." I calmed him down.

"Lady Whent, thank you for your hospitability," I said,

The old lady of Harrenhall nodded, "You'll be welcomed at Harrenhall as long as you stay here, my lord."

I smiled and followed the servant to my rooms.

"Thank you," I waited till all the servants were asleep and quickly got out of my room where I found Ramsay and Jon waiting with a torch.

"Ready to go?

They both nodded and we started walking through the dark corridors with only the torch light guiding us, the musty smell of rotten wood filling our nostrils, cobwebs filling the spaces behind columns. The heavy rain was rattling against the wooden roof of the barracks and buildings. The walls were broken and full of holes offering glimpses of the rest of the rooms.

A flash of lightning illuminated the tower and all I could see was the endless dark corridor with no one in sight. I rubbed my eyes from the sudden light and continued walking softly.

Jon said hesitantly, "We should go back."

"Afraid of the dark, Snow?" Ramsay said mockingly.

Jon glared at him and refused to answer.

"There's nothing in here. Are you expecting to find ghosts in her…- FUCKING HELL." Jon

A swarm of bats emerged from behind a tapestry, spooking the hell out of me.

Get a grip on yourself, I thought. You're an ex-dark lord who has seen more horrors than a bloody dark corridor.

We found a dark elaborate room in the end of the corridor. Lady Whent stayed at the lowest level of the tower, so that wasn't her room. Intrigued we decided to enter. Stepping over that rotten threshold was like crossing into another world, one where the crumbling walls groaned around us like a dying beast, and the movement of the door rattled dust around thickly causing us to cough.

"The Mad Lady Lothston once ruled this castle, cooking children, biting the flesh of her handmaidens, bathing in their blood and serving feasts of human flesh." Ramsay said in a spooky sound in an attempt to scare Jon. "They say that Harren's soul remains here, fading away, haunting away any who dares reside in his castle. It is said that on still nights, when the air feels heavy and the moon is blotted out by the oppressive shadow of the clouds, one who listens can hear the long wails of Harren and his children burning."

"Do they really?" A raspy voice said from the darkness.

I whirled around and my eyes focused at the sight of a ghost floating through the walls. He saw me looking and his eyes narrowed, "You can see me?" The ghost looked at me. He was tall and thick shouldered, with a square jaw and wearing an elaborate crown over his head.

"I can," I said nodding.

Before the ghost could utter another word, three other ghosts appeared from the wall and screamed so loudly that my eardrums almost burst. The skin hung from their face in fleshy tatters, with remnants of armor melted with their skin.

"My children," he said sadly, "Aegon Targaryen burned us in our tower because I wouldn't bend my knee to a fucking foreigner."

"I could free you," I suggested.

"Free me? FREE ME?" He screamed and laughed maniacally, "No boy, this castle is my masterpiece. I will remain here for the end of time."

I shrugged and started walking away, "Whatever suits you."

A hand suddenly gripped my shoulders, stopping me from walking away. "Ramsay, what the fuck are you doi-" The rest of the words died in my mouth as Ramsay's face morphed through Harren's and his children's and other various faces I couldn't recognize and back to Harren's face.

"Whoever said anything about leaving my dear boy," Harren said with a mad glint in his eyes.

"You'll stay here with us," he said as dead bodies appeared in the darkness, walking towards us and wearing different armors with sigils of a single black bat, on a field party, Five black towers on white, surrounded by a double tressure red and black,  
a tripartite pale blue, red, and green on white and various others that he couldn't make out properly in the dark.

"Forever," Every dead body in the room said in unison.

I chuckled darkly, "I don't think, I will."

"Fiendfyre," I whispered with menacing red eyes.

As the dead bodies and ghosts were destroyed by the fire that consumed even magic, I quickly stumbled out of the room and locked it, walking away as if there wasn't contained hell fire devouring ghosts just behind me. I walked away towards my room where I hit face-first with two others.

"Awww come on, you went exploring without us?" Ramsay whined pitifully.

"Wha-What…?" I asked baffled.

"You look as if you've seen a ghost, cousin." Jon said amusedly.

"Afraid of the dark, Stark?" Ramsay said sarcastically.

"But.. you just.. what?" I muttered confusedly as I wiped my face. "No exploring." I said forcibly.

"But you said you wanted to…" "I know what I said and now I say no exploring," I interrupted him looking behind me at the door.

"Whatever," Ramsay said sullenly as we went back towards our rooms.

"Lord Stark, are you leaving already?" The old lady said kindly as we guided the horses out of the stables.

I replied, "Yes we are, my lady. I'm afraid we've imposed on your hospitality enough already."

She smiled, "It was a pleasure my dear to have guests in the castle. I usually entertain recruiters of the Night's Watch whenever they come by."

I thanked her and said, "I've noticed that you've a party of your own preparing as well. If you don't mind me asking, where are you going, my lady?"

"The harvest feast at Riverrun, all the lords and ladies of the riverlands are going to be there. A little bit early than in the North, I know." She said.

"Very well then, good luck on your journey to Riverrun my lady. Perhaps, I will see you there."

"Perhaps," she nodded, "Safe travels my dears."

Ramsay and Jon thanked her and rode beside me as we exited the castle.

"Are you thinking what I'm thinking?" I said with a grin.

"Lady Sheila must have been one hell of a hottie when she was young." Ramsay said.

"Exact… What the fuck Ramsay? No!" I said.

He frowned, "Well, I suppose she's still got it if you like them a bit hairy…"

I resisted the urge to palm my face and just rode on.

Isle of Faces, The Riverlands.

The harvest feast was almost 2 weeks for now and we had the advantage of being lone riders and we could reach Riverrun in almost a week.

So we decided to go to the historical place where the pact between the First Men and Children of Forest took place. It was called the Isle of Faces So that the gods could bear witness to the historic agreement, all the trees on the island would have a face carved into it and the order of the green men would be created to guard them

It was said that green men lived there and were entrusted with the Isle Faces. Some tales said they rode elks and had antlers. So filled with intrigue, we set off with a small boat towards the Isle of Faces.

"You think you'll find wizards there?" Jon asked.

I scoffed, "Doubtful, but I just want to see how the Andals failed to destroy the so-called green men."

We rowed the boat and the fog continued to increase as we approached the isle. I could feel us passing through a ward, judging our intent, and as soon as we passed it was like a haze was lifted off my senses. Everything was so… clear. I could feel the magic thrumming through and beating off the isle in a consistent drum-like rhythm.

The isle shimmered slightly and I could feel an illusion covering it. I probed it slightly and… BAM! The illusion shattered with an audible crash deafening us momentarily. Jon dropped the oars in surprise.

"By the Old Gods…" Jon said in surprise.

I could only nod in acceptance. In front of us was one of the grandest structures I've ever seen. It was almost 500 feet tall, made of entirely green glass and emeralds. It was thick and asymmetrical, as if it was emerald quartz dragged from the earth and engorgio'ed several times.

We landed on the shore and started walking attentively, looking for any sign of the fabled green men. I knew they weren't there however; there was nothing here but animals and trees.

We found some bodies in the distance and approached them softly. They were quite dead. Their skin had a green hue and was covered with twigs and branches and leaves. I shook the image of Professor Sprout that popped in my head and took a closer look.

Proud antlers were sprouted out of their skulls and most of their bodies were decaying and surrounded by roots. They must have died with the destruction of the Children. I felt a sense of melancholy at that- 3 Magical species dead because of me, and quickly regained my bearings. I was a fucking dark lord for the first century of my life not some PETA pussy.

"They're all dead." Ramsay said without any sadness in his voice.

"How astute of you," I muttered sarcastically

He just shrugged and continued walking. We passed through tens of dead green men on our way that all look like they collapsed mid-day, which they probably did. We reached the emerald construct and found a wall with engraving of a straight vertical line with a circle surrounding it and a triangle enclosing them. 'Fuck me'

"That's it?" Jon asked.

I looked at him with annoyance and pressed my hands to the symbol and felt a light prick. The moment my blood made contact with the engraving the whole construct began to melt to the ground. I had no idea what the people in Harrenhall and the surrounding lands saw and I was beyond caring right now. The emerald was falling and melting as if it was snow and after everything was gone, only a pedestal remained in place. I approached the pedestal with anticipation and excitement only to find a piece of parchment folded on it.

"A parchment? That's what the green men and children were protecting for thousands of years?" Ramsay asked incredulously.

I shrugged and opened the parchment with curiosity, only to find something that made want to burn the bloody Isle until not even the ashes remained.

A clumsy drawing on the parchment that had a tandem bicycle with a grim reaper on the back seat and something that looked suspiciously like me in my early days in the front seat. Under the drawing were the words, 'The real treasure is friendship xoxo'.

I sighed in annoyance and crumbled the piece of parchment and threw it as far as I could, "Let's go."

"What was written on it?" Jon whined.

"Let's go…" I said gritting my teeth.

"What the fuck is wrong with him, First Harrenhall and then here?" Ramsay asked.

I ignored their mutterings and jumped back on the boat staring stubbornly at the horizon as the illusion looked back down into place.

I really should've never come to the bloody Riverlands.

Riverrun, The Riverlands.

I had placed my faith that our journey would take a turn at the riverlands and were mightily disappointed. That's why I decided on annoying Hoster Tully as much as I can.

We arrived a day early and decided to camp outside the castle until next day so we would crash the feast, literally.

As soon as Jon and Ramsay were asleep I took the chance to sneak into Riverrun.

The castle was not particularly large and was constructed as a triangle. The castle is bordered on the north by the Tumblestone and on the south by the Red Fork, while on the west a third side faces a massive man-made ditch. The castle has sandstone walls which rise sheer from the water, its battlements are crenelated and have arrow loops, and its towers command the opposite shores.

I disillusioned myself and apparated inside the castle. Almost all the lords of the riverlands were in attendance and were situated inside the castle, waiting for the feast. I had to be extra careful so to not bump in anyone.

I quickly slipped through the guards and entered the main keep which was also triangular. I kept walking around aimlessly until I reached a spiral stairway that had 2 guards stationed on it. Bingo.

I climbed up and opened the door. It was Hoster's solar. Let's see what dirty secrets Hoster hided here.

I looked around the solar and couldn't find anything of importance at first glance. Everything was covered in trout and fish. What was so great about having a fish as a sigil? I flipped through the letters placed on his desk; House Mallister rising, The Brackens and Blackwoods were fighting.

Nothing interesting at all.

Was Hoster as boring as he looked? A worn looking book lied innocently in the corner of the table. I opened it and an evil grin spread on my face.

Next Day, The Feast

"Lord Tully," I said grinning at his discomfort. "Thank you for hosting us."

"Of course," he said smiling tightly, "May I request the reason of your visit?"

"I can't visit my uncle's goodfather?" I asked in mock hurt.

"Oh come off it, Hoster. Lord Stark is welcome in the riverlands at any time." A man with brown hair, a chiseled face and fierce blue-grey eyes said.

"Lord Mallister, I haven't seen you since the Greyjoy rebellion!" I greeted the man.

"Bah, as if you can call that farce a rebellion, good riddance I say."

I nodded solemnly, "They've been reaving and raiding the riverlands for too long with only you as a protection, correct?"

Lord Tully seethed in rage at the insinuation that he was doing nothing against the ironborn and Lord Mallister took notice and smirked, "Aye, Seagard was the only thing stopping the iron shit from taking all over the riverlands."

"How dreadful…" Ramsey said, barely doing an effort to sound solemn.

"Perhaps we should start the harvest feast now?" Lord Drarry said.

Hoster stumbled a bit from the reminder, "Ahh, yes of course."

We took a seat in the corner along with other guests of non-importance. Hoster seemed trying to hide us.

"So, Lord Stark, what brings you to the riverlands?" Jason Mallister said as he sat down with a smile.

"I've decided to tour the seven kingdoms for a while to get a look at the castles and meet with the lord paramounts."

He nodded, "Perfectly reasonable for a young lord, but I was under the impression that you and Hoster were at odds."

I smiled, "Are we really?"

"Yes well," He straightened up, "You're aware of course how the riverlands have been unstable so far, most of the lords have way too much food to sell and it's all going bad."

I just nodded silently waiting for him to get on with it, "Hoster is a good man, he tried to secure our borders but completely forgot about the internal matters."

"What are you proposing, Lord Mallister."

"Call me Jason, please." No, I won't. "You've heard of Edmure's tragic death last year, correct?"

"He drowned because he was trying to kiss the moon's reflection… That's not tragic, that's stupid." Ramsay said.

"And you are?" Jasona asked.

"My associate, Ramsay Snow. Now we were saying?" I said trying to get the attention back on me.

"Ah… yes of course, I hoped to arrange a…" "I thought we were friends." Ramsay gasped once more interrupting us.

I took deep breath, "Ramsay, not now."

"Is Jon an associate as well?" He said.

I looked at him blankly, "Really? We're having this conversation now?"

"Of course you are avoiding the question. It's because I don't have a pet wolf, right?" He asked looking hurt.

I looked at him for a long moment and said in a low whisper, "If you don't shut up right now, I'm going to hurt you in ways that would make even the Red Kings of old cringe."

"Fine," he huffed.

I glared him one last time before turning my attention to Mallister, "You were saying?"

"Ermm... I was thinking that perhaps since Lord Tully's heir was now your cousin Bran, we could arrange a betrothal between him and my newborn daughter, to consolidate his power in the Riverlands."

Fucking medieval cunts, "You do realize that Bran's barely of his mother's teats?"

He laughed, "I know, Lord Stark. But the other houses are going to hog you as the head of his family for marriage alliances."

I stayed silent for a moment, "After the unfortunate demise of House Frey, Your house is the most powerful vassal of The Tully's right?"

He nodded proudly.

I realized that it was just the way things done here. Marriages were the best tools to cement alliances, and I would need to use them. The least I could do to my cousin is to allow him to build a relationship with his bride to be at least, "Very well, when your daughter is 10, she'll be fostered here in Riverrun with Bran."

He looked hesitant, "I don't think that Lord Tully would agree, my lord."

"Well he's going to have to deal with it. Either he allows the betrothal and fostering, or House Tully would go extinct." I said as matter of fact.

He smiled broadly at that, "Excellent! Thank you, my lord. I knew you would see it my way."

"Shouldn't you be the slightest bit pissed that the north is hogging all the wealth and won't buy anymore grains from you?" I asked baffled.

He smirked, "Seagard is getting 5 times the revenue it got before the rise of the North. The North wealth trickles to us as well, my lord."

I smiled back at him. I really have to do something about this. The riverlands gaining wealth is acceptable; they're in my grasp anyway, but what about the Vale?

Perhaps I should arm the mountain clans and set up another base there, definitely worth thinking about.

"Lord Tully, Thank you for your hospitality. I'm afraid we're going to have to leave though." I said remorsefully.

He tried to put on the saddest face he could but his face held giddiness that we were going to leave.

I was almost at the door when I turned abruptly, "When is Bran going to be here?"

"Ned and I agreed that he would come here on his eighth name-day." He replied.

I nodded, "I agreed to a betrothal with Lord Mallister's daughter and Bran. You boys can set up everything, I'm sure."

He looked stumped for a moment before he had a broad smile on his face, "That's an excellent idea, consolidating the Tully's rule within the Riverlands. That was very thoughtful of you, Lord Stark."

What?

Nononono, that wasn't how this was supposed to be like.

He was supposed to throw a fit because I was arranging betrothals for his heir and get that nice purple color on his face once more.

I kept my face blank as he smiled gratefully, "Of course."

I made sure to steal Lord Edmyn Tully's - the first Lord Paramount of the Trident, sword on my way out.

It definitely made me feel better.

Author Notes;

HK Target Shooter; I specifically said carriages pulled by horses to avoid the problems relating to introducing steam powered engines in Westeros.

Next chapter is in the westerlands. It should be much longer than this one.

Keep reviewing!

Lord of the Grey.


	12. Chapter 12

293 AC, The Westerlands.

After stealing Lord Tully's ancient sword, we made our way towards the Golden Tooth, the seat of House Lefford. It is located along the river road west of Riverrun. Although the Golden Tooth is a small castle, it was basically the westerlander version of Moat Cailin. . It is generally held that in order to attack the westerlands from the east, one must take the Golden Tooth to have a secure passage.

We passed through the Golden Tooth without an incident. Ramsay wanted to go to Castamere, but I thought it was a waste of time. It was out of our route and was in ruins anyway. I still didn't get how there were no bards singing songs about my victory and annihilation of the Iron Islands. I guess the Panic of Pyke wasn't that catchy but you have to admit that the Rains of Castamere was as lucky as my first name. Having a house called Reyne in Castamere and drowning the entire residents was fortunate. Had Tywin planned this in advance?

Anyway, we made our way to Casterly Rock without an incident. The Lannisters really managed to keep their vassals and lands in check. Fear was an excellent motivator – that's why I had changed my eyes into red when I started the whole being evil thing, and everyone feared Tywin's wrath.

The castle was truly something else. It didn't have that imposing figure of Winterfell but you could practically feel the wealth of the Lannisters from just looking at the Rock.

Casterly Rock is carved out of a great stone hill colossal rock in the sea. The Casterlys of antiquity built a ringfort on the peak, and as millenia have passed its natural defenses have been expanded with walls, gates, and watchtowers. It was said that Lannisport was founded because at first Lann the Clever's descendants couldn't all fit inside the Rock, so most of them relocated and established the new town.

I was exceedingly jealous of the height of the rock compared to Winterfell and was determined to fix that as soon as possible. The highest tower at Winterfell was barely 240 feet high and this monstrosity was almost 2100 feet high.

I could probably get away with annoying the fuck of Hoster and showing up announced but Tywin Lannister was still the second most powerful lord in westeros and was famous for holding grudges. He fucked over the Targaryens because Aerys refused to marry Rhaeger to his daughter. With the Lannister's support, the Targaryens would have most likely been able to win the rebellion.

We sent a raven from Riverrun announcing that we would arrive within 2 weeks; the minimum respectful amount of time to show up.

We passed through the Lion's Mouth, the main entry to Casterly Rock. It was wide enough for almost 20 riders to pass through. It was as if the Lannisters wanted to show you how wealthy they were the moment you entered their castle. Gold statuses and structures were all along the gate, some of them are worth more than what some houses ever had their entire lives.

"Lord Tywin," I said bowing my head slightly, "Thank you for having us in Casterly Rock."

He bowed his head and said nothing except look at my companions and introducing us, "My brother Kevan," motioning to a portly, balding old man, with short blond hair and the Lannister green eyes. "My sister Genna," introducing another fat, square woman with a broad and smooth face. "And my son, Tyrion," He said almost dismissively.

I got my first look on Tywin Lannister's bane of existence and the most famous dwarf in Westeros. He had the typical dwarf stubby legs, a jutting forehead, mismatched eyes of green and black, and a mixture of pale blond and black hair. He was wearing fine red and gold clothes and looked slightly drunk.

I smiled at each one of them politely and tried not to stare at Tyrion for too long. We were directed to our rooms and offered a tour in the Rock by Kevan Lannister.

"Thank you for guiding us, Lord Kevan. I fear we are somewhat a burden to your duties." I said as we met with the man.

"It was no inconvenience at all, Lord Stark. After all, all of us are indebted to you for returning Brightroar." He replied with a smile.

"It's your family's sword; I had to return it of course." I smiled, "Has Lord Tywin been looking for it for a long time."

He gained a faraway look, "Ever since we were children. Owning a Valyrian Steel blade is a great honor, so Tywin was adamant to have one for our house."

I nodded, "I understand the Starks also have a Valyrian Steel sword, Ice was its name, correct?"

"We have seven actually." I stated nonchalantly.

He tripped on the next step and almost fell if it wasn't for Jon supporting him. "Sev-Seven…?"

I looked at him with amusement as I nodded.

"I was unaware that your family had any other but Ice, my lord." He said skeptically.

I rolled my eyes and unsheathed my blade, "This is one of them, Fire." I said as he looked over the crimson and black sword with fascination.

"Another is with Uncle Ned and Benjen, while Ice is back at Winterfell. I fear a longsword isn't my weapon of choice." I continued.

"Do I get one?" Jon asked from the sideline.

I nodded, "As soon as you get legitimized."

He gained a gleam in his eyes and nodded.

"I'm sorry, you are?" Kevan asked.

"Jon Snow, my lord. Lord Stark's cousin." He said narrowing his eyes in defiance.

Kevan smiled kindly, "I have nothing against bastards my boy. My brother Gerion's daughter Joy Hill lives here with us."

"You have a brother named Gerion?" I asked, puzzled.

He nodded somberly, "He left on an expedition to Valyria to try and retrieve Brightroar but hasn't returned."

I changed the topic and asked, "So what is that?"

He looked in the direction I was pointing at, "That's a corridor," He said bluntly, "Through here you'll find the Hall of Heroes, where valiant Lannisters who have died are interred. It also contains the armors of Lannister of old."

"This is Lann the Clever's statue, our ancestor that is as famous as your own, Bran the Builder. It is said that he managed to trick the Casterly's by wit only and …"

The Feast

The feast was a generally straight forward affair. Only the Lannisters and a few other nobles that lived in the castle were in attendance. It was the dullest affair of the season. I've been to death eater meetings that were livelier. As soon as Tywin excused himself, the party started. I truly missed nightclubs. The idea of a party here was alcohol, food and silly minstrels and bards.

I had thought about introducing a school of Music and Arts to produce better quality bards and shows but couldn't bring myself to do it.

I was the Warden of the North not fucking Mace Tyrell.

I approached Tyrion as soon as I could, he was stinking from whiskey and wine but his eyes brightened as soon as he saw me coming.

A large grin found itself on my face, "A pleasure to finally meet you, Lord Tyrion."

He smiled back, "Not what most people think when meeting me, but its appreciated Lord Stark."

I sniffed, "Winterfell's Whiskey, isn't it?"

His smile broadened, "Indeed, and what a drink it is."

"There were times when wine was the only thing you could get drunk on, not what you young people keep drinking nowadays," Genna Lannister sniffed slightly.

"Regardless of your personal opinion Lady Genna, It produces an enormous amount of wealth for us. I thought Lannisters understood business?"

She rolled her eyes, "There's a difference between business and producing a dozen different drinks for drunken people of all ages."

Tyrion replied, "I believe the Maesters will call our time as the Drunken Age in their books."

I laughed, "Perhaps they will."

"I've been very interested in you, Lord Stark." Tyrion said quietly as the others scattered around.

I raised my eyebrow, waiting for him to elaborate.

"A once in a lifetime genius, they say. I've read your theories and must say I'm incredibly impressed." Tyrion said.

I bowed my head, "My thanks, Lord Tyrion."

He nodded, "I've heard that Winterfell has changed entirely as well."

"You're always welcome to come see it yourself." I said.

His face suddenly loses its previous cheer.

"I don't think my father would allow it." He said bitterly.

"Why?" I asked.

He looked at me blankly, "I'm a dwarf…" At my confused stare he continued, "Do you believe the Great Lord Lannsiter would allow his disgrace of a son to go visit any of the other Great Houses?"

I snorted, "You're exaggerating, I'm sure he would allow it."

"When I was sixteen name-days I wanted to tour the Free Cities like my Uncle Gerion and Tygett had done, he charged me of the cisterns and drains at Casterly Rock instead."

I said, "Well…" "When I was eighteen, uncle Gerion went on his journey for Valyria to recover Brightroar, he forbade me to go as well." He seemed to go on and on.

"For fuck's sake just shut up." I snapped.

His face changed into anger before carefully slipping a cold mask and apologizing politely.

"Sit down, you idiot. You're almost as bad as my cousin Jon."

He still had his cold mask on and I elaborated, "He kept moaning and pitying himself for being a bastard and acting like a little bitch."

"Your point is?" He asked.

"My point is that you should stop bemoaning your state of birth and start doing something about it instead of wallowing in alcohol and whores." I snapped.

Jon said, "I was treated like shit back at Moat Cailin, before I left to Winterfell with Cousin Brandon. So let me give you an advice, never forget what you are. The rest of the world will not. Wear it like armor, and it can never be used to hurt you."

"What the hell do you know of being a dwarf?" Tyrion asked angrily.

"Dwarves and bastards aren't so different," He shrugged, "We were both ridiculed and hated for the circumstances of our birth which we had no hand in. Make your own way in your world instead of bemoaning your life at Casterly Rock."

He gains a speculative look and said to himself, "I've always wanted to go study at the Citadel."

"Come to the North, our Citadel is larger and I'll make sure your father can't find you there." I proposed.

He looks at me suspiciously, "You would defy my father just to help me? Why?"

Because I know how it is to have a shitty father who you want to kill.

Instead I answered, "They say that you're shrewd, educated, and calculating, but receive no credit due to your deformity. By giving you a chance, I gain a great mind in the North and you'll owe me for it."

"And a Lannister always pays his debts," He answers, "I'll do it."

I blinked, "You're not going to think on it?"

"I had my entire life to think on leaving, I'm ready." He said forcibly.

I nodded, "Very well then, Take this coin," I handed him an iron coin with a direwolf head on the back and the dark mark on the front, "and give it to any northern ship. Tell them the words "winter is coming" and they'll provide you with a place on their ship and help you reach Winterfell and the Temple."

He flipped the coin, "Thank you, Lord Stark."

"Just don't waste your life and do something useful for the North and consider your debt paid." I said flippantly.

He nodded and his face broke into a wide smile, "Perhaps I could start creating new drinks."

"Perhaps," I shrugged, "Good Luck, Lord Tyrion."

The Northern Trading Post, formerly Tarbeck Hall

We stayed in Casterly Rock for almost a week after the feast enjoying the Westerlands. It was time however to go on our journey.

"I hope you've enjoyed your stay at Casterly Rock." Tywin said.

"Indeed, it's a most beautiful castle." I answered.

He nodded in thanks, "You're going to the Northern Trading Post, I assume?"

"Yes, I was hoping to check on it before going to the Reach."

"It has been generating a great deal of tax for us, and already a small city is around it." He said.

"Wonderful," I smiled, "It's most efficient in storing cargo and merchandise and distributing them to the Westerlands instead of loading them straight off the ships."

He replied, "I was hoping to start a Westerlander Trading Post like it in the North."

I nodded carefully, "What do you have in mind?"

"We could start a harbor and a city in the Rills. It's mostly an empty area in the North and starting a trading post there would populate it a bit as well as providing tax for you." He proposed.

"You want to build it from scratch?" I asked skeptically.

He nodded, "It would take perhaps 3 years, but it is the only choice."

It would probably take less with our builders but I had no intention in providing him with cement and steel.

"That sounds acceptable," I said, "I assume the terms we've agreed on Tarbeck Hall are the same?"

He just nodded silently.

"Very well, I'll send someone to accurately mark and choose the best place to start a town there and they'll wait for your builders."

He nodded once more.

"Where is Brightroar by the way? I've noticed that you weren't carrying it." I asked.

A ghost of a smile appeared on his face, "I presented it to my son, Jaime."

Ahh, the Kingslayer. Better not mention that moniker in front of his father though.

"Very well then, we must be going now. Farewell my lord."

We kicked off and were on our way with a party of 50 Lannister soldiers to Tarbeck Hall.

The reason I chose Tarbeck Hall not Castamere was its strategic position. The Trading Post lied on a hill that had direct view of Casterly Rock and Lannisport. It was quite far, but the magically enhanced cannons could probably reach the Rock accurately. The harbor as easily accessible to land troops whenever needed and any blockade by Lannister ships were going to get destroyed quickly by cannons. It was nigh impregnable with our repairs and it would take months of siege for it to fall.

The cannons and weapons were hidden from sight of course. 500 soldiers were stationed there permanently to provide protection.

The new trading post was on the surface built as only a trade city. Merchants and bazaars and storages were all around. High walls surrounded the city and the port and the city was bustling with action. 10 trusted agents of mine ruled the city and made sure everything went without complication.

The lower empty rooms that once housed the mines however were entirely devoted to weapons. Secret tunnels were built all around the city that was 5 riders wide to allow reinforcements from land. Explosive bolts and cannons were stored downstairs as well as some of the wildfire I managed to replicate.

I met with the agents and quickly went over the ravens that were delivered to me from Winterfell, nothing out of the ordinary, thankfully. Everything was going smoothly back home. The north was a well-oiled machine that could function without input now.

"My lord, has everything been up to your standards." One of the men asked hesitantly.

I looked over the numbers. They were very well actually; revenue has almost quadrupled since the exportation of ice. But first rule as a dark lord was to never give your followers too much praise lest they get lazy.

So instead of praising the man, "They're… okay. I expect that you will build several more ice houses and expand the harbor a bit."

The man nodded quickly, "Of course, my lord."

"Now what did you want to show me?" I asked.

"Please follow me, my lord." The man said as his eyes sparked with excitement.

I followed the man to the deepest level of the building and passed through numerous corridors. If I didn't trust my followers I would've assumed he was an assassin trying to corner me.

He opened the door and led me inside.

I was almost blinded by the sight that greeted me. Diamonds and lots of them were scattered all around the mine as far as I can see. This mine was probably worth as much as Casterly Rock.

"How did the former owners miss this?" I asked the man baffled.

He straightened up, "It was extremely deep my lord, we only managed to find it because of the mages. They came here and managed to pull it from the ground to ease the mining process."

See what I'm talking about? Well-oiled machine.

"That's okay then, but I still don't see the reason why you brought me here…" I asked.

"Ah, of course. It's actually a plant we've managed to find, we've been keeping it here under statsis."

I nodded and followed the man.

He lifted a piece of cloth and I blinked at him and said dryly, "Congratulation, That's Cannabis."

"Well the thing is my lord is that we've managed to acquire it from a merchant from Qarth. Many nobles are paying ridiculous amounts of gold to get their hand on it."

"Westerosi nobles get high?" I asked myself.

"Very well then, send that plant back with one of the Winter Mages and order him to start planting in it in greenhouses in large quantities and I'll send them blueprints for the making and processing of tobacco and marijuana."

"Right away, my lord," He said.

Grains, meat, silk, ice and now tobacco and marijuana.

I was revolutionizing industry and slowly turning into a merchant king without even noticing it.

I need some violence to re-establish my fearsome reputation.

Tourneys, here I come.

AN:/ The past few visits have been mostly fillers and irrelevant to the plot. I suspect only the Reach, Dorne and King's Landing will have some plot in them. I'll try to write more but I'm knee deep in German textbooks and homework these days.


	13. Chapter 13

295 AC, The Reach, Highgarden.

It took us a week and a couple of days but thankfully, we arrived at the seat of House Tyrell with no notable incidents as the road to Highgarden was patrolled and heavily guarded.

It still looked like the silly castle it was. I don't truly fathom why they built it like that. A castle should inspire fear into the heart of your enemies first and foremost, not have them admiring its beauty. The inner rings of Highgarden were a complex of towers, courtyards, and statuary, and greenery is just as prominent inside the walls as in the fields outside. It was sickeningly green, sort of like the hanging gardens of Babylon of my own world.

I had that destroyed the moment I took control of the world.

Highgarden was the dwelling of chivalry and romance in the Seven Kingdoms, every maiden's dream.

Speaking of maidens, Jon was gawping at the vast colorful gardens and acting in a decisively un-stark manner. I nudged him as we approached the Tyrell family and he quickly schooled his features into the Stark grim face.

I noticed that even though Highgarden stood in an important crossing, it was more of a renaissance fair than a trading hub. 'What a waste of potential.'

I handed my horse to the stable boy and walked toward the Lord of Highgarden.

"I'm glad you accepted my invitation to visit Highgarden, Lord Stark." Mace said with a smile.

Wait… he invited me? I can't recall.

I smiled, "Well, I had to see for myself the beauty of the Reach, Lord Tyrell."

"This is my heir, Loras," He introduced a boy about two or three years younger than us, with brown curls and golden eyes standing proudly, "He's squiring for King Robert's Brother in the Stormlands in a few moons."

I nodded at him, "I'm sure you'll perform admirably."

His ridiculous grin never left his face.

"And my daughter, Margaery," A skinny girl, with curly brown hair, a sharp nose and a smile on her face curtseyed, "A pleasure to finally meet you, Lord Stark."

I kissed her knuckles softly, "The pleasure is all mine, my lady."

"My wife, Alerie," I kissed her knuckles as well as we moved to the most interesting family member of house Tyrell.

"And you of course know my mother, Lady Olenna Tyrell." He said hastily and tried to get us out before his mother could utter a word.

Oddly enough, Olenna was rather silent during the interaction.

I noticed them looking hesitantly and fearfully behind my back.

"Oh, right. This is Jon, my cousin and his direwolf Ghost." Jon bowed to the lord and Ghost wagged his tail.

"And this is my own direwolf, Nagini." I said as Nagini approached Mace slowly, she was now the size of a small horse- larger than even normal direwolves, with midnight black fur and bright grey eyes. She sniffed Mace for a while as he stood with fear and then licked his face in one sloppy swipe.

"Ramsay Snow, the Heir to the Dreadfort." I motioned to Ramsay.

"Shall we make our way to the great hall?" Mace asked.

I nodded and saw that they still stood in their places, "Are they going inside as well?" Loras asked with fascination.

I shook my head and whistled, "We'll leave them in the stables besides our horses."

I had to direct them to the stables myself before going to the Hall as everyone else was too scared to approach them.

"Shall we?" I asked Lord Tyrell as he nodded, looking more relaxed now that the wolves were gone.

It was an annoying walk to the Great Hall; Mace took a longer route and showed us the wonders of Highgarden babbling about the history of the castle and tapestries. If I ever hear him bragging about how the North's rugged beauty has nothing on the gardens of Highgarden once more I'll hand him over to Ramsay with a bucket and see how long until he dies from swallowing thorny flowers.

We were directed at the High table were we took our places beside Mace and began eating.

"And how is the North, Lord Stark?" Olenna asked.

I raised an eyebrow. What, no japes? "Not much has changed from the last time you've visited."

She hummed, "I hope the North can run on its own without you."

"I'm sure it will."

Before I turned back to talk to Mace she said, "And how are the finances of Winterfell."

I looked at her briefly, "It's considered rather rude to inquire about money and finances during dinner."

She shrugged and looked at me, waiting for my answer, "It's doing well. Is that all, Lady Olenna?"

"Not at all, no," She straightened up, "We tried to replicate your railroads, you know."

I sat my knife and spoon on the table and motioned at her to continue, "We initially tried using wood, it wasn't strong enough to carry the weights your rails carry. So we used iron, that too caused a fortune to make even a few feet and still wasn't as efficient as yours."

I saw where this was going and wasn't surprised. It was a wonder no one questioned where we got all the steel to build our roads.

"Then you tried to use steel and found that the cost was extraordinarily high and was a custom job because every track had to be identical and laid in pieces," I continued for her.

She smiled, "Why, that's exactly what happened."

"So will you get on with it?" I asked irritably.

"Now how exactly did Winterfell manage to finance laying thousands of feet of identical steel rails all over the north, grow their castle into the size of Harrenhall and lure the Iron Bank into their lands almost entirely on its own without a single copper borrowed?"

Was she a legilemens? I mean bringing up the topic needlessly to rush the thoughts into the front of my brain was the easiest way to find the answers in the mind without having to pilfer through the mind and search aimlessly.

I peeked through her thoughts and found out that no; she was just an annoying bitch who wanted to make me uncomfortable.

I looked her dead in the eye, "I have a magical stone that can turn anything into gold."

There was a certain beauty of telling the truth that was so incredible that everyone assumed you were joking.

She looked at me blankly, "How funny."

I shrugged and went back to my food, not noticing the eyes that were directed at me and kept widening with each word her grandmother said.

I looked at Mace and asked, "I was wondering why Oldtown was the biggest trading hub in the Reach while Highgarden is more beautiful and nearer?"

He stammered slightly, "Oldtown is the oldest city in all of westeros, Lord Stark."

"Still, Highgarden has an enormous amount of merchants and trade passing through it, paying a miniscule tax."

He nodded, "You must understand that Highgarden is exceptionally large, to be able to accommodate the large number of merchants and set shops here would be huge."

"Perhaps we could help you in that regard," I said carefully.

Olenna interjected, "Your house is rich, boy. But remember that House Tyrell isn't poor as well."

I sighed, "I wasn't talking about a monetary loan, Lady Olenna."

She raised an eyebrow, "You're going to throw merchants at us?"

I rolled my eyes, "No. I was going to suggest that the North takes care of building shops and trading districts. We will provide the bricks, our northern cement, labor force, builders and engineers for the building of the trading and shopping district in Highgarden."

Olenna looked surprised but she wasn't going to let it go, "I suppose this is going to be like the Northern Trading Post in the Westerlands."

"Not at all," I waved my hands, "If you're agreeable, I would like to open a Trading Center here as well to encourage trade here instead of Oldtown; Much less of a hassle and time than having to go to Oldtown. Ships can dock and transport their goods down the Mander through Highgarden and all the way to King's Landing."

She narrowed her eyes, "And what do you- pardon me the north benefit from all of this."

"Faster and better trade in the Reach for my ships in the Sunset Sea, and I'm ready to build them all for a 14% cut until the cost is repaid and from then on a measly 3% tax on the profits." I replied.

She stayed silent for a moment thinking it over. Why I was talking to her again? I was supposed to be discussing this with Mace. I looked over at him and saw him glancing at his mother waiting for him answer.

"That sounds acceptable," she finally said and Mace slumped with a sigh.

I nodded and she added, "Are you're sure your builders can finish such a job at an acceptable time and cost?"

I looked at her plainly, "I built a Westerosi Braavos in a year, you tell me."

She nodded her head sharply.

Mace smiled, "For future prosperity for our kingdoms, Lord Stark."

I smiled at him and said, "I assure you that within a few years, the trade route through Highgarden to King's Landing would bring as much as gold as The Gold Road in the Westerlands."

He nodded, "It's so simple, I've thought about it before of course, but before your wondrous creations we couldn't afford such a venture without drying our coffers."

So all I have to do is calculate the value of building a trading hub in Highgarden using the old techniques and I'll get an estimate of Highgarden's wealth. Thank you, Mace.

Olenna leaned in and whispered, "Don't think you've won this round. You're still young and are prone to mistakes. I only care for house Tyrell's interests and your little plan will benefit us."

I looked at her baffled, "What plan? Increasing trade for my ships through the West is hardly nefarious."

She narrowed her eyes at me, "You're playing from an angle that I can't see but I promise you that I'll figure it out."

I smiled at her infuriatingly, "There was another matter I wanted to discuss with you as well."

"Another way to place spies in our castles?" Olenna asked.

Wha- She thought the Trading Center was to allow spies inside? Foolish woman. I had spies in every village and city in Westeros the moment I began actively ruling.

I smiled at her, "If I wanted to place spies in Highgarden I wouldn't waste that much time and money to build a trading hub, and contrary to your belief, the world doesn't revolve around Highgarden."

She replied, "I still can't figure what you're playing at. You haven't flinched or showed any reaction when I suggested spies so that's not it, or you're a particularly good actor."

I pinched my nose, "Can we get on with a conversation without mentioning conspiracy theories?"

She continued as if I hadn't said anything, "The only other reason I can think of, is that you want to actually boost trade and wasn't lying to me."

"Trade is critical for the North's, and the realm's continuing prosperity. We all desire wealth and the only way to do that is through exchange and trade. Having money constantly pouring through both our coffers is a more binding agreement and a longer binding alliance than marriage." I explained.

She scoffed, "And how is that true exactly?"

"If the trade between the North and the Reach is beneficial to both sides, there won't be wars over silly slights and disgruntled lords. War would mean for all us lost income and gold. While a marriage is a silly non-aggression pact that would last for as long as the marriage does, creating no true value or long term income."

"How wise of you," She drawled while subtly looking at her granddaughter and back at me.

No, that's not going to happen.

I rolled my eyes once more and said, "Now, I am aware that with the new canals and farming methods in the North you have a surplus of food that you have nowhere to send."

Olenna narrowed her eyes and looked about to say something but refrained and I continued, "The North has begun to show that same problem, so with the patronage of the Iron Bank, we propose that we start directing this surplus of food towards the East using our faster ships for more favorable prices."

"They'll get the same food from where they've been getting it for the past eight thousand years. What reason would make them buy from Westeros."

I nodded, "The food in Essos is scarce and is mostly brought through trade. They don't possess the same cattle, grains and wheat that we do. Merchants sell them in small quantities which cause their prices to grow quite high. They usually have to depend on either oases or exotic food, which are only available for the rich."

She nodded carefully, "You could do start trading on your own though, the North is closer to Essos than the Reach."

"I can, but what I want to do is start new trading routes dedicated solely for providing food, to make the Essosi dependent on us. By turning our surplus east and transferring them through cooled ships that can preserve any food for as far as the Jade Sea, we would gain an enormous amount of wealth and bring Essos closer to Westeros."

It would also give me a cover to have a large number of Westerosi ships in Essos. Journeys made to Slaver's Bay and Qarth were only done sparingly due to the distance. My ships could cover it in third of the time, even less with my personal ship.

"I assume you have the papers drawn for that?" She asked.

I replied, "A representative from the Iron Bank and Winterfell will arrive here if you agree, to negotiate and sign the contract."

She nodded sharply, "Very well."

Jon sat happily in the side chattering with Loras about sword fighting and giving him some tips.

"Are you enjoying yourself?" I asked him taking a sip from my wine.

Why they even drink wine when I brought all the new drinks to Westeros, I didn't know.

He smiled and asked, "We're staying for a while here?"

I nodded and looked at him inquisitively, "Loras asked me to spar with him tomorrow, perhaps show him a thing or two."

I raised an eyebrow, "So you're teaching aspiring knights now. What are you, the new Arthur Dayne?"

He flushed, "No, but with the amount of bandits we've faced on the road, I think I've got a pretty decent idea."

I shrugged and looked over at Ramsay who was eyeing a maid with what I suspected was his lecherous grin. The maid was blushing and sneaking glances at him from time to time.

I guess the extra energy from his prior sociopathic tendencies had to go somewhere.

"How are you finding Highgarden, my lord?" A small voice asked from behind.

I blinked and turned towards Lady Margaery, "It's quite beautiful, my lady."

She nodded, "Highgarden has the most beautiful gardens in all of Westeros,"

Oh for the love of… was this a Tyrell thing? I resisted the urge to tell her that I got it the past 40 times her father mentioned it and just smiled politely.

Apparently she sensed my annoyance as she laughed and said, "I apologize, it's just one of the most notable things in Highgarden that we pride ourselves on."

Ah, sort of like my death eaters. I could understand that.

I nodded and answered briefly, "They're quite beautiful."

"If you don't mind me asking, but are you travelling alone? Shouldn't the Warden of the North be accompanied by a rather larger party…" She said eyeing my two frie… companions.

"We can't truly enjoy Westeros and the travel with a party of 500 men accompanying you. I wanted to experience what every other traveler experiences. The bandits and ambushes are just part of that." I replied.

"Isn't it unsafe though, you could be hurt," she asked in a concerned voice that was faker than Lucius.

I looked at her amused, "We can more than handle ourselves, my lady."

"Will you spar tomorrow with Loras?" She asked.

I nodded, "If the time permits, why not."

She flushed, "You must be a great warrior, my lord."

Peasents and lowly knights travel all the time all over a Westeros, what was so great about travelling on my own? Or did she think that her brother was that great?

From the way Olenna rolled her eyes, she must have thought so as well.

I just smiled politely and hoped that she would shut up,

She didn't, "Your direwolves are magnificent creatures, my lord."

I thanked her and she continued, "Aren't they dangerous creatures to have inside a castle though?"

I shook my head, "Not at all. They won't attack a fly without us ordering them."

"And if you do order them?" She asked.

I replied, "Then they'll rip a knight's head off his body in a blink of an eye."

She looked horrified, her brother Loras jumped into the conversation, "Jon tells me that they will grow as big as war horses in the future. Can you ride them?"

I nodded slightly; I had a breeding ground for direwolves back at the North for wars and battles. We had almost 50 young direwolves at the moment. "When they're fully grown and with the suitable saddle and armor, they could tear through enemy ranks almost effortlessly."

"Wicked…" He whispered.

"Can we go touch them?" Margaery said excitedly, "If it's no inconvenience to you, my lord."

It really was.

"Of course you can." Jon said.

Highgarden's Stables.

Jon walked in front of us with Ramsay and Loras chattering excitedly. Ever since he left Moat Cailin, he opened up and became quite friendly with all people. Now that he didn't get disapproving look for every action he did. None of the lords really cared that he was my uncle's bastard and if they did, none dared say a thing.

I accompanied Margaery as a proper gentleman would. She asked, "You must deeply care for your cousin, my lord."

I nodded, waiting for her to elaborate, "Taking him into Winterfell, I mean. Not many lords would've cared for their uncle's bastard in another keep."

I replied, "When the snows fall and the white winds blow, the lone wolf dies but the pack survives."

She giggled slightly, "And when are you planning to start a pack of your own, my lord?"

"Not too soon, I hope." I answered.

She looked at me oddly, "You're the lord of the wealthiest and largest kingdom in the Realm, some lords and heirs are already married at your age."

"They marry because they want men and gold, I have both. I doubt anyone can offer me something that I don't have." I replied.

She looked at me, "You want to marry for love then?"

I shook my head, "Not really, I just don't want to marry. Not a lady, princess, or even a wildling."

She asked, "How are you going to have heirs though?"

I shrugged, "I have an heir through Jon, Benjen, Uncle Ned and his children."

"You don't want to have children of your own?" She asked confused.

"I don't particularly care." I said moving faster.

It really didn't. If I absolutely had to, I'll marry. I prefer the single life.

"Here they are," Jon said, as Nagini and Ghost came barging out of the stables.

Margaery approached Nagini slowly, while Loras was already playing with Ghost.

Nagini sniffed her and nuzzled her cheek softly, "So soft," She whispered.

I stood bored at all the fluffy stuff going on as Margaery coddled and doted on the wolf that was thrice her size.

Nagini yipped and playfully nuzzled Margaery and looked at me and… was that a wink? I didn't even know wolves could wink.

I shook my head with amusement and walked away

Most of the castle inhabitants were gathered at the courtyard to watch the spar.

Jon and Loras were circling each other; both were wearing chainmail and using blunted swords, waiting for the other to crack and attack first.

Loras cracked first and charged forward with a swing of his sword, but Jon ducked underneath and slashed with his own.

Loras managed to evade the slash aimed at his leg but lost his footing. Jon however, chose to give him a chance to steady himself once more instead of going for the win.

Once again he swinged and slashed his sword with an impressive speed, yet Jon blocked, parried and dodged every time.

The two clashed swords and engaged in a battle of strength as they started to push against each other. Jon being the older one managed to twist his sword to the side, unbalancing Loras and causing his sword to fly to the other side of the courtyard.

He wasn't beaten yet as Loras jumped sideways in a roll and picked off his blade just barely blocking Jon's hit.

He was actually quite good. Given that he was almost 3 years younger than us he managed to keep Jon, who was one of the most natural swordsmen I've seen in this hovel, on his foot.

"Your son is a natural with a sword, Lord Tyrell." I said to Mace, not taking my eyes off the fight.

He nodded proudly, "Aye, he's going to be the greatest knight in the realm when he grows up."

I nodded, "If he keeps improving as he is, I'm sure he will."

We were interrupted from going on as Loras yelled.

Jon managed to swipe his feet off and was now holding his blunted sword at his neck.

I clapped and joined them down in the courtyard, "You're actually quite impressive." I complimented the boy.

He smiled grimly, "I still lost though."

I waved him off, "Jon couldn't beat you with the sword, so he used his body. I have no doubt that you'll manage to beat him in a year or two once you put on some height."

He nodded and Jon added, "You'll most likely always be lean though. Learn how to use that in your advantage, slip through the attacks while holding your foot in place. Your swordsmanship is amazing for your age."

The boy beamed proudly and blushed, "Thanks."

"Get up then, it's my turn." I said as I pulled him back on his feet.

AN; I decided to follow with the TV show and cut Willas and Garlan from the Story.

The Mander is one of the most important and longest rivers in Westeros, making the Reach as fertile as it is

I'll try to write soon but I have my TestDAF exam on the 19th. If you could write me and review on ideas for further chapter in the Reach, I would highly appreciate it as it would cut time.

Should I include more fight scenes or is the little quantity better? I'm afraid I'm not good at them.


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